


I Just Want To Sell Out My Funeral

by powerfulantidote



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Bands, Alternate Universe - Music, Friendship, M/M, Recovery, Slow Burn, Trans Characters, abuse not between main pairings, aka the underground music scene au aka the diy au, i wrote this so long ago noel was still a bruin, plot relevant past abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-29 01:34:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 38,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21130706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/powerfulantidote/pseuds/powerfulantidote
Summary: For Sean, playing music isn't about getting famous. It's about making something meaningful. Memorable. For Danton, playing music is a way of hoping he forgets.A local, small music scene au aka “ask for the address, don’t tell the cops, bring $5 for the touring band” deal.





	1. I Can't Wait Forever

**Author's Note:**

> I've been writing this fic since literally March and it's a story I've wanted to tell for longer. Thank you to Mo, Katrina (Cjmasim on here and tumblr), and tumblr user cryptwrites for betaing this long and incredibly grammatically incorrect fic. Thanks to The Gang for the never-ending support, you know who you are. 
> 
> Two important things to note before reading:
> 
> This story deals with topics of abuse, mostly the after-effects of it, recovery, and sharing a social space with your abuser. There are also mentions of the misuse of drugs and substance abuse. I hope to have addressed it all in a mature way without romanticization, and in each chapter, there will be in-depth trigger warnings of when and where this occurs. This chapter does not contain that content. Despite all this, I like to think it's a happy story. 
> 
> Noel is non-binary in this story and is written with they/them pronouns. There are other trans characters, but Noel is the only one using pronouns different than in the hockey world. 
> 
> There's a lot here taken from my own observed and lived experiences but all the names are changed so only the bruins can sue me. How about that.

Sean has never been so in love with the sound of his own voice.

Well. Okay. The rest of his band would argue against that, having to live with his nonstop talking. But that’s not what Sean means. 

He’s crammed in his car with Charlie, Noel, and John listening to the album they spent countless hours of the last year working on. A product of all Sean’s late nights driving for Uber to afford studio time, writing down lyrics on his phone at red lights. Of Charlie sending him melodies he recorded in the bathroom at his college. 

All of those memories are contained in a silver disc inside Sean’s car radio and a jewel case with only the words _Meet Me in Mansfield - Yes, Hard Feelings_ written on it in Sharpie. 

The four band members lean toward the stereo analyzing every sound and looking for mistakes to fix. Processing the reality of it, that they actually made an album, doesn’t hit Sean until the third track of the album, the first one Sean has lead vocals on after the two that Charlie sings. He can’t help but get giddy. 

“Enjoying yourself?” Charlie leans forward from his spot in the back seat to tease Sean. He can’t take offense. Good natured teasing is something Sean is used to, as much of a staple to his band as the album playing for them. 

With their feet leaning on the center console while they take notes on their phone, Noel pipes up from next to Charlie. “Don’t interrupt. Sean’s already writing the diss track about us for his solo career.”

The jokes don’t deter Sean’s excitement. Everything came out _good_. The back and forth of his and Charlie’s guitars. Noel’s ability to switch between cymbal and snare focus. Steady bass playing from John. The album sounds like the songs Sean used to daydream about making about when he was 13.

It took a decade of dreaming and a year of work as a band, but now it’s all here in that little disc. 

“We still don’t have an album cover,” mentions John while writing suggestions for the mixing and mastering stages on a piece of loose-leaf paper. He’s the old school type. 

Charlie and Sean groan in unison. This has been a topic of lighthearted contention between the four members of Yes, Hard Feelings for weeks now. 

Without looking up from their phone, Noel puts on an overdramatic scowl, “Just as long as we don’t use a baby picture. Every band does that”

“I suggested that _one time_!” Sean thumps the steering wheel lightly for emphasis. 

“And it was the only idea you had!”

John and Charlie giggle at their bickering. The least opinionated on the topic is John, but he decides to weigh in, tapping his fingers along to the closing track on the album. “Can we all agree to avoid the minimalist trend?”

“Oh, yeah, I don’t want us to get mistaken for The 1975,” Charlie agrees with a wave of his hand. “What if we got, like, an illustration?” 

“You have extra money lying around we don’t know about?” The idea gets shot down by Noel before any of them can get excited.

Sean has a different idea. “When we get signed and a label gives us money to put shit out, we’re making a scratch and sniff album cover and if you guys don’t like it then I’m going solo.” 

“Told you he was already planning it.” For the first time since the album started, Noel looks up from their phone to make the joke. They’ve always been shy about their own work. 

The disc sends them back to track one. As much as Sean wants to listen again, it’s almost peak hours for Uber and he has to start taking rides soon. They still have to save up for a tour. Maybe even a vinyl pressing. 

“Look, I’ll try to take a good photo we can use. Cheap, quick, and easy.” Sean turns in his seat to face all of them. “I took a photography class in college.”

“But you dropped out.” It’s hard for Charlie to hold back his smile to keep an unimpressed facade. 

Before Sean can reply, he’s cut off by his phone ringing from somewhere in his mess of a front seat. He shoots a glare at Charlie to let him know this isn’t over yet and scrambles to answer before it goes to voicemail. 

The screen displays “Anders” along with the contact photo of him passed out in a pool float with a beer in hand. This should be good. 

“Yeah?” 

“Dude, I got a last-minute slot for a show if you’re interested.”

Anders is three years younger than Sean but has probably put on more shows than Sean’s attended in his entire life. The four in the car are the first to admit their band would be nowhere if it weren’t for Anders and his roommate, Jake, turning a house they rented out into a basement venue and letting everyone play. Over the past few months, Sean’s played and attended countless concerts in the basement where amps get stacked on top of laundry machines and the cheap rug is patterned with cigarette stains. 

He has no plans on stopping now. “I’m with the guys now, I’ll put you on speaker so you can tell us but I’m sure we’ll be down. Unless it’s with that act with the two cowbell players again, fuck that.”

Those cowbells had scarred everyone in the car.

“Jake’s been practicing with this new band, right? They’re ready to play a show and wanna get it outta the way, I think everyone except Jake has been on stage before, anyway. I threw together a few openers for next week and had them be the first act on, but need a headliner and figured with the album coming out…” 

Knowing everyone has never hindered Anders from keeping track of everything. 

“Anyway, you in?” 

It’s always an honor to be asked to headline. There’s no way they’re going to turn it down and the excited looks on everyone’s faces confirm that they’re on the same page. 

“Text me the times and I’ll double check everything, but I think we’re in, man.” Even though Anders is asking them for a favor, it feels like the other way around. “Who else is in this band, anyway?”

“Jake’s on guitar with this girl from West Virginia named Karolyn. Guy named Charlie Coyle is singing and he’s like, 23, but acts like he’s 50 sometimes. On drums is Matt Gryz from Boston, one of the smartest stupidest guys I’ve met, you know how I like that. Then they got this Canadian dude on bass named Danton and he seems nice, mother raised him right. Didn’t even mind me asking him to say ‘about’ in his accent.” Anders always has a unique way of remembering people. 

No one’s name besides Jake’s rings a bell. As soon as he hangs up, Sean’s quick to turn and ask his bandmates if they know any of the people Anders mentioned. 

In a small city and music scene like Columbus, you tend to know everyone. Meeting someone for the first time is rare. Three people? Unheard of. 

“I know Coyle and Matt, but I haven’t seen Coyle in two years. Figured he found God or got addicted to hard drugs,” John says in the even tone that only someone who’s seen it all before could have, only shrugging at the bewildered looks the rest of the band gives him. 

Noel and Charlie take a moment to scan their memories until something clicks for Noel. “I think Karolyn may have done sound when we played down at Pleasant Street. I remember because she was the first sound person we had at a show in a while that knew what they were doing.” 

“I can’t even remember your names most of the time,” answers Charlie with a light laugh. The three begin to exit the car so Sean can go back to work. 

“You don’t even know your own name!” Sean yells as his bandmates step outside. No one says goodbye. They’ll all be seeing each other within the next 24 hours. 

Without turning around, Sean can see Charlie flip him off in the mirror. He feels genuinely grateful for the bandmates he has.

\------

Calling Jake and Anders’ basement a “venue” is generous. The only way to know it exists in the first place is to find the name “Warriors Arena – Ask for Address” under the location section of a band’s event page. It doesn’t have a website, and there’s no trace of it on Google Maps to ensure that the cops don’t try to shut them down.

The entrance is down a thin driveway past the vans and cars of the performers and their equipment, and through a small wooden gate nearly covered by bushes no one bothers to trim that separates the driveway from the backyard. That’s after parking a few blocks away, if you’re not a performer, to not tip off the police.

If you were there for the first time, you’d only be confident you were in the right place once you reached the backyard. Equipment for the bands that play later sets is piled up against the shed door. Mid-twenty-somethings stand around gossiping and drinking beer they brought from home. Anders always sits in a broken beach chair below a confirming sign- the words “Warriors Arena” spray painted on an old bed sheet caked in dirt and hammered above the door that leads to the basement where the bands play. Everyone pays him five dollars to give to the performers at the end of the night, every night. 

Sean is pretty certain that if he were in _The Wizard of Oz_ and clicked his ruby heels together to bring him home, they’d take him here. 

“Remember when we did a cover set here on Halloween?” Noel interrupts Sean’s train of thought, equipment in hand. 

“I remember you not letting me dress up as a Spice Girl.” The night was 90’s themed and, in Sean’s opinion, dressing as Baby Spice would have doubled the attendance. 

“That’s because I care about you, and Brittany Spears was a better choice,” an explanation Sean has heard many times comes out between Noel organizing extension cords. “Next year we should do Fleetwood Mac.”

Sean doesn’t need to be convinced. Anyone who’s heard his drunken lecture on why _Rumors_ is the best album ever written knows that, and Noel has heard that lecture several times. 

“I get to be Stevie, right?” 

“I think Charlie would make a better Stevie actually...” The smirk Noel gives confirms they’re trying to mess with him. Two can play that game. 

“Alright, but you have to be the bassist that cheats on Christine.” 

Noel turns and gestures with the plug of the extension cord. “Hey-”

“You two in the middle of something?” 

Their joke argument had gotten heated enough that they didn’t notice Brandon come down to the basement, two total strangers in tow behind him.

“It can wait,” Sean answers quickly, turning to Noel with an exaggerated glare. “We’ll continue this later.”

Normally, Sean would ask for Brandon’s opinion on the topic since they’ve known each other long enough, but he doesn’t want to subject people he hasn’t met to this debate. Especially since Brandon’s sort of working.

Despite his young age, Brandon is possibly the best up-and-coming stage and sound tech in Columbus. All the small venues in the area have him at the top of their contact lists when they need someone young and reliable to assist production, but his high demand doesn’t stop him from volunteering at Warriors Arena in exchange for free beers from Jake. Sean would know from the number of times Brandon has destroyed him in beer pong.

If the silence is unsettling, Brandon either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care as he continues on. 

“I just gotta give a rundown to these two newbies. Karolyn here does sound,” he gestures loosely to the short woman with an eyebrow piercing on one side of him. “But I can’t be sure if this guy knows where to stand.” Brandon concludes with a friendly smile towards the guy on the other side of him. He looks as out of place as he acts. 

Sean tries not to pigeonhole people or act like there’s one look people need to have to play music, god knows he and his bandmates look like four total freaks, but there’s an unfamiliar feeling to this man. His blonde hair is neatly swept back and he stands with his arms wrapped protectively around himself. He looks about Sean’s height with worn but well-fitting clothes and doesn’t seem to be a fan of eye contact, staring at the wall instead. 

Introducing himself is probably better than staring. “I’m Sean, how’s it going?”

The woman- Karolyn- is quick to hold out a hand to shake and introduce herself before doing the same to Noel. “Y’all are in Yes, Hard Feelings? Last act?” 

“As long as Sean doesn’t break up the band before then.” This time, the joke does get a chuckle from Karolyn and Sean gives Noel an elbow for it. “You’re with Jake’s new band?’

Unlike Karolyn, the guy she’s with moves a lot slower to greet them. He manages a strong but silent handshake. 

“Sure are, going by The Quitters.” Karolyn’s got an accent, but Sean can’t quite pinpoint it. Something familiar and friendly. Didn’t Anders say she was from West Virginia? He can’t remember. 

Brandon sighs wistfully, “I wish I thought of that band name.” 

The blond finally speaks up. 

“Everyone playing in the band got close to quitting music at some point, so we thought it was funny.”

“This is Danton, by the way. I promise he’s not _trying_ to act mysterious and weird.” Karolyn’s explanation answers maybe two of the two hundred questions Sean has. 

An awkward moment passes, everyone standing around, still trying to get a feel for each other but knowing they don’t have the time to fully do that right now. 

Noel takes one for the team. “We should finish setting up, but we’ll catch your set later.” 

No one needs convincing to exit the awkward conversation and it's not long before Noel and Sean are back to bantering with each other, or before John and Charlie show up to pile on the nonsense. 

Normally, this is around the time Sean starts to get anxious about his own performance, when he goes to the van and practices with his unplugged guitar while smoking a bowl. Today his mind is stuck on unfamiliar faces and the new act he needs to check out.

\-----

“How are we supposed to follow that?”

Charlie doesn’t say it to anyone in particular, instead verbalizing what the rest of the band is thinking. A band's first show isn’t supposed to sound that tight. Even if all of The Quitters have seen a stage before. Everyone except Jake, the co-owner of Warriors Arena, known best for thinking to put sandbags in the basement windows to soundproof the place, who evidently has a talent for stage presence that he neglected to show before now. 

Sean is going to have to give Jake shit later. Lovingly, of course. Just some jabs about spending more time showing off than actually playing. 

“Quickly, ‘cause I got work tomorrow,” responds John as he goes to start dragging their equipment back to the van. Always the straightforward one. 

Musicians in a scene like this aren’t really in competition. They can’t be when the biggest supporters of smaller bands are other musicians themselves. What’s normal, encouraged even, is challenging each other to be better. At least that’s what Sean’s telling himself as something in the back of his head says they need to put on the best set ever to be played at Warriors Arena if they want to outshine the rookie band.

This is totally normal. Sean’s not at all intimidated by them. 

It’s the bassist that Sean can’t get out of his head. Darrell or something, whatever the fuck his name is. The blond who earlier seemed more like an accountant than a musician. He didn’t have the stage presence Jake did, no bunny hops around in the five inches of space available or playing on his knees, but his bass playing drove the hooks and melodies of the songs getting everyone, including Sean’s, attention. 

Attention that didn’t stop while the guy hid under the brim of his hat, staring down at the fretboard. Like he’s just as uncomfortable with himself as he is with everyone else. 

The room fills up to around forty people as Yes, Hard Feelings begin tuning. Tonight’s a good draw, a snow-free Friday when everyone wants to go out even though most of the crowd works weekends. The location helps, too. People will come out to Warriors Arena regardless of who’s playing just to hang out. 

“Ready?” Noel raises an eyebrow at Sean. The first song starts with his vocals.

“Am I ever?” replies Sean.

He turns to the crowd, closes his eyes, and begins to play. 

They start with one of the first songs they ever wrote as a band, something Charlie always likes to start with. Sean can play this one in his sleep, which means he likes to mouth the words at the crowd to keep it interesting. There are the people he expects to sing the words back, like Brandon who’s been doing sound for them since the first time they ever played it. Then there are people like the drummer from the opening band surprising Sean by belting every word. 

They play new songs after John does the responsible thing that Sean and Charlie never remember to do by reminding the crowd they have an album coming out and thanking everyone who came out tonight. Worry spreads across John’s face when Charlie makes a joke about not knowing Jake “could even tell his left hand from his right” while he’s in the middle of thanking The Quitters. Luckily for Charlie’s sake, Karolyn grins wide. 

A different kind of energy overtakes Sean when he introduces the last song, something his bandmates pick up on.

“This is our last and most listened to song…well, according to the internet, at least. You can remind Charlie that people would rather hear me sing than see him at the merch table after.” Calling it a table is generous, considering it’s a futon with t-shirts and cassette tapes laid out on it. The crowd gets the idea.

Sean feels like he needs to give everyone something special with this one. Something to promote the new album, and definitely not just to impress any band or their bassist. 

At one point, Charlie jumps off the kick drum (Noel will yell at him for it later, but they won’t actually be mad) and John shares Sean’s microphone. Good, but it’s not enough and they’re about to hit the outro of the song. 

They don’t have much of a crowd. What they do have is a semicircle of 20 people singing along, watching the band perform on a rug that acts as a makeshift stage, and Sean needs a way to tell them thanks. Time to go big or go home.

Sean turns the mic towards the spectators and walks to the center of the room. There’s a feeling of invincibility as he makes room for himself in a crowd of people who yell his lyrics of insecurity back at him. With enough voices, it’s a spell to banish all the fears Sean wrote the song about. He falls to his knees, surrounded by people, and lets himself become enchanted. 

For the last time that night, the crowd sings along. “It’s not anything I’d like to forget!” 

Locking eyes with the blonde bassist watching shyly from the stairs, Sean gives him his best smile.

\-------

Arriving home to Noel with good news is the best part of Sean’s day.

It’s not an opportunity he gets often. Usually, all Sean has are stories of the weird passengers he picked up along the way. Like the three old ladies who tried to take him home with them or the drunk teens who asked if they could perform a stick-and-poke in his backseat. That’s when Noel reminds him Uber drivers are like modern day bartenders as Sean makes them laugh with his dramatic reenactments.

“I got a call from Torey today,” Sean declares after throwing his coat over a chair in their cramped living room. 

From the futon that becomes Sean’s bed when the clock hits 11 p.m., Noel looks up from the obscene amount of newspapers laid around them and raises an eyebrow at Sean. A look that says _this better be good_, because they have homework to do.

Sean flops next to Noel. “said there’s a band playing a secret show and looking for local acts, our name got thrown around.” 

Being nonchalant to fuck with Noel works. They immediately sit up, animated. 

“Where? What fucking band?”

“Oh, you know, don’t wanna distract you from…” Sean gestures down at the homework for whatever communication class sits on the table in front of them. He’s teasing, but it’s worth the look on Noel’s face. 

“You’re always distracting. Spit it out,” threatens Noel with a hint of anticipation.

“At Ace of Cups with a little band called Shoddy Workmanship,” he can’t keep a grin off his face as Noel’s jaw drops, “heard of them?”

Noel swats at Sean’s arm. “You’re such a dick. They’re considering us?”

Shoddy Workmanship is arguably the biggest band to come out of Columbus this decade. The kind of band everyone wants to hate for their success but can’t help but love and envy for their continued ethics and good songs. Just like Yes, Hard Feelings, Shoddy Workmanship got their start playing alternative rock in basements before going on to play large venues all around the world. They give Columbus hope that success could happen to anyone.

Their Columbus shows are always an _event_. Anders and Jake won’t bok anything at Warriors so they can go. Usual suspects who litter the basements around Ohio like empty beer cans find their way to whatever venue Shoddy Workmanship perform at. Usually Newport Music Hall or Express! Live. Playing a venue like Ace of Cups that’s a tenth of that size will easily make it the most exciting rock show in Columbus that year. 

A huge opportunity for two musicians on a broken futon who are about to eat leftover Chinese food for dinner. If they get picked to open, that is. 

“Apparently. You know how Torey did merch for that singer Best Kess a few months back? And then she opened for them? He’s still in touch with their guitarist, and he asked Torey for a list of people who could open in Columbus. We were on that list.” 

Noel gets up and begins to make their way to the kitchen, salvaging whatever is left in the fridge. “Who else is on that list? We gotta sabotage anyone?” 

“That band that opened for us last night was. Got a connection or something. Think Ryan’s band too.” 

The conversation trails off for the sake of Noel’s GPA. Instead, they talk about more Uber stories and the latest gossip on a band in Cleveland who apparently faked being robbed in a van break-in. Noel’s homework pile shrinks and it’s not long before the living room goes from workspace to movie theater as they set up Netflix. They’ve been using Sean’s ex’s account for a year and don’t plan on changing that now. 

Halfway through the Freaky Friday remake, Sean brings up the secret show again. “You know, I don’t think I’d be playing guitar if I didn’t buy that first Shoddy Workmanship record.” 

“Thank god your mom let you run loose at the CD section of Target that day.” Noel has an incredible talent for keeping a straight face while making fun of Sean. “I know what you mean. I played bass before, but I only knew where I wanted to go with it after I heard them. Gave me direction or something.” 

Sean pulls the sleeves of his sweatshirt over his hands. Nights are cold this time of year, and the blankets they own are way too thin. 

“I think the first time I saw them was actually at the Ace of Cups. I was, like, fifteen, and it was obvious they were about to explode. That was my first time seeing any band at a tiny venue. I had no idea how to act, made a fucking fool of myself.”

“You still do that.”

“Yeah, I do. But it makes the rest of you look better.” It’s not as if Sean has ever been known for practical decision making, but he’s willing to do anything to ensure everyone has a good time. Even if it involves hurting himself in the process. 

Like using his coat as a blanket that night, so Noel can use Sean’s sheets for warmth while they sleep. 

It’s the kind of night where he wonders what that fifteen-year-old version of him at the Ace of Cups would think of him now. He’s probably not what younger him would be expecting, but he is happy most days and on the way to something great. He has to believe that.

\-----

Sean’s bitter, and he knows he shouldn’t be.

“This band looks like they pulled five random dudes off the street.”

He wants to be grateful he’s here at all. That Anders works at the Ace of Cups when he isn’t running Warriors and got him and Charlie in for free to see his favorite band. But it’s hard not to make snide comments when some joke of a band gets to open instead of Yes, Hard Feelings. 

Charlie is off talking to someone, god knows who when it seems like everyone and their mothers have found their way to the small Columbus venue tonight. That leaves Sean supplying Anders with the unlimited drinks he promised in return for getting them in. 

Eyes darting around the room, Anders searches for a way to respond to the very loaded comment. “They’re from Cinnci dude, what did you expect?” 

Sean chuckles, breaking some of the tension. “Why are they even playing? Weren’t they looking for two Columbus bands, not just the one?”

“They were, but Shoddy’s label…they wanted to pick a band they had just signed, and you know a label like Epitaph doesn’t actually care if the bands they promote sound like crap.” 

“Okay, so this band got on because they knew someone at the label, and The Quitters got the other slot because their singer was everyone’s childhood boy crush,” Sean says it with an eye roll, but regrets it a moment later. Making fun of the Cincinnati band, Meeting the Quota or whatever, is one thing. But mocking The Quitters is a riskier move, considering everyone is somehow friends with these five people Sean only heard of recently, save Jake. Including Anders.

They do seem like good people;e can’t lie about that. Snark is just hard to keep contained when they seem to be getting opportunities handed to them within two months that Sean and Yes, Hard Feelings were working for over a year to even be considered for. 

To his credit, Anders doesn’t take it personally on the band’s behalf. He turns and grins at Sean instead.

“All about who you know, man. Good thing you know me, or you’d be handing out tapes outside of Applebees.” 

“Well, I don’t know if I’d call it good-” 

An arm thrown around Anders’ shoulders cuts Sean off. “Motherfucker, you work here too?” 

It’s dark, and Sean almost doesn’t recognize the guy joining them. It’s someone he usually only sees in Tweets and Instagram posts. Not someone’s mutual friend, or a celebrity by any stretch of the word, but a guy whose opinion on music matters more to Sean than he cares to admit. 

“I’ll call security,” Anders yells back and leans into the guy for a sort of half-hug, all they can manage in the tight venue space. “Sean, this is Chris Wagner. He runs Borrasca Records and doesn’t like when people have jobs and go to those jobs.” 

Sean knows who he is. He’s been wanting to be signed to Chris’ label since it began, since before Yes, Hard Feelings even formed. A local indie label, but the one that Shoddy Workmanship started out on along with many others Sean has come to love. There is no question Chris knows what he’s doing. One of the smartest but most down to earth people in the Columbus music scene. 

“How are ya, man?” Chris reaches out to take Sean’s hesitant hand. “I’m cool with people having jobs, but I wish I could go anywhere without seeing this kid’s face around.” 

“My face is the only reason you dust off your walker to come to shows and you know it.” Anders shoots back. 

Awe hovers in Sean’s head, shaking Chris’ hand and not quite knowing what to say yet. Being at a loss for words isn’t normal for him. He’s usually the one helping others feel more comfortable in the conversation. 

Luckily, Anders knows how to step in. “Sean is in Yes, Hard Feelings. I think I sent you their first EP like, a calendar year ago, so if you didn’t listen, I’m taking it personally.”

“You work as our manager, too?” Sean stutters out, thankful he managed to speak at all. He just has to be cool. 

“Fuck, yeah, listened a few times, but I’m gonna need some new songs of yours to put in my rotation.” Chris avoids eye contact with Sean and keeps his hands in his pockets while responding. A reminder that he’s just like the other twentysomethings in the room scared to fuck something up. “Gotta get out to a show sometime, too.”

All Sean wants to do is pause time and tell all his bandmates what he just heard. That the owner of Columbus’ most influential underground record label wants to see them play. 

“Maybe if you ever came to my place, you’d see them.” 

The dare from Anders brings Sean back to the present. “We do basically have a residency there.”

“They play next week, so you have seven days to either show up or leave town.” 

Chris pulls out his phone, visibly entering the show in his calendar. 

“Guess I’ll just have to see you again, Anders. Promise the opener will be better than that Meet Your Quota band.”

“Don’t like them either?” Sean snorts.

“Well, it’s what I’d call an _interesting_ choice. They haven’t been good since their bassist left, and that bassist now plays for the _other_ opener tonight. That new Columbus band.” The words roll out casually, but all the information is unexpected news to Sean. 

From the look on Anders' face, this is the first time he’s hearing this, too. “Danton used to play bass for them?” 

“That was his first band. Wasn’t a peaceful departure.” 

Chris keeps it short in a tone that tells Sean not to dare ask for more information. Still, he can’t help but feel there’s more to know. More specifically, that there’s more Chris doesn’t want him to know. They are practically strangers, after all. 

The ominous tone of Chris' words settles over the conversation. No one says anything else.

Sean’s phone buzzes at just the right time. 

“Come do shots w/ me and torey he wont shut up about u”

Charlie doesn’t have to ask twice. No one argues with Sean as he excuses himself out of what seems to have turned into a private conversation.

\-----------

Torey Krug passes his time by making his peers miserable, and Charlie is just as bad for enabling him. This is something Sean decides as he spends a minute straight coughing from a pickleback shot the two made him try.

People who only know Torey from the witty tip jar signs he writes when working practically every merch table in Ohio or from his viral tweets might think his banter is just a brand. Anyone who’s talked to him for more than ten minutes knows that he’s actually always like that. Ask Sean, who’s been goaded into drinking something he never would on his own. Or Shoddy Workmanship’s guitarist, Brad Marchand, who has his face plastered on a T-shirt with the word “sell out” over it at his own bands' merch table tonight thanks to Torey. 

(All proceeds from that T-Shirt will be going to charity. Because kindness always follows Torey’s pranks. John sometimes refers to him as a Sour Patch Kid.)

“Are you taking a picture of me dry heaving?” Sean sputters at Torey standing with his phone in his hand. He knows what Torey’s capable of. They’ve known each other long enough.

“Gotta stock up on blackmail,” answers Torey honestly. “I’ll get some of Charlie, too. He takes embarrassing himself into his own hands.” 

“And Sean doesn’t?” Charlie makes sure to drag his bandmate down with him. 

“I _own_ the embarrassing shit I do, but you-” 

Sean is interrupted by Torey motioning slightly with his hand for Sean to look behind him. 

Hovering a few feet back, with hands in pockets, is the bassist for The Quitters. The little blonde one who looks even more ready to jump out of his skin than when they first met. Sean doesn’t know him well, but he knows that he probably isn’t the kind of guy who just wants to say hello. He needs something. 

“Oh hey, you’re uh…” Sean isn’t trying to sound like a dick, but he knows if he tries to guess his name, he’s going to get it wrong. It’s something weird, something Sean had never heard before. 

“Danton, we played a show together. A few weeks back, I think.” Danton’s eyes stay glued to the floor, and Sean tries harder to commit the name to memory this time. “You guys are friends with Jake.” 

“Unfortunately.” Jokes Charlie to try and make the conversation a little less weird. It only earns a polite smile.

Torey steps away to help people trying to buy Shoddy Workmanship shirts, and Sean nearly begs him not to leave. If anyone can make this not weird, it’s Torey. 

“Is your bassist, uh...John? He around?” Danton asks with the first attempt at eye contact he’s made the entire conversation. 

Guilt rises in Sean’s stomach. Danton remembers all of Sean’s band, and Sean couldn’t do the same for Danton. He seems nice enough and Sean feels instantly less wary of him. 

“John’s working tonight.” Subtle but visible disappointment flashes across Danton’s reaction to Sean’s answer, and Sean feels the need to make it better. “Wait, is it like a bass question? I can try to help. I play the same thing, just with two more strings.” 

That doesn’t seem to reassure Danton the way Sean hoped it would. Sean wonders if he can buy the guy a drink to cheer him up. Or maybe a balloon. 

“I need someone to fill in for me tonight, something happened and... I got the music written in some notebooks, it’s a short set…”

The logical part of Sean’s brain says he’s not the man for this job. He’s played bass before but playing it _well_ is a whole different story. If he remembers anything from The Quitters’ set, it’s that the bass carried those songs. Danton’s absence will be noticeable. 

At the same time, Sean can’t get rid of this innate need to lend a hand, especially when it feels like the person he’s helping would do the same for him. It helps that Danton’s kind of cute, too, but that’s beside the point. 

“I can do it. I’ll need your notes, and it’s gonna suck a bit, but if I’m your only option, I can be your guy.” 

Danton’s face softens and Sean feels himself relax beside him. Motioning for Sean to follow, Danton navigates through clusters of people too involved in their own discussions to notice them. They reach a side door the bands escape through that brings them to where the vans and trailers are parked. Considering the lineup, The Quitters are probably spending most of their time out here as the bigger bands occupy the back room. 

“Charlie, well, Charlie Coyle is gonna show you what you need to do. I got everything written down...” 

Trailing off, Danton digs through a Stop and Shop bag full of what looks like everything he calls his own before digging out a notebook. The cover says “bad ideas” in true Target discount section fashion. He flips through the pages rapidly.

“...Written right here. We don’t have too many songs anyway, but we’re only playing the ones with the pages folded. Coyle will tell you the order.” 

Sean gingerly takes the notebook from him and has a look at the scribbled tablature. At least 90% of it is legible to him. “If I fuck up, you’re not gonna sue for defamation, right?”

Maybe the biggest reward of the night comes right there, when Danton genuinely laughs instead of doing so to be nice. He’s caught slightly off guard by Sean’s joke. When Danton laughs with his nose scrunching a bit, Sean knows he wants to make that happen more often. Wants to see that daily. 

“As long as you don’t introduce yourself as me. But if you wanna say you’re Torey, you won’t hear any complaints from me.”

The moment doesn’t last. Danton's eager to leave for whatever reason he needed someone to fill in for. Coyle goes on to tell the crowd Sean is on bass because Danton got sick, but Sean thought he looked just fine. It’s best to mind his own business and not question these things. 

Especially considering he totally just made the band sound like shit. 

“Sorry, I know that wasn’t…” Sean immediately apologizes once they clear the stage.

Matt, their drummer, gives him a hard pat on the shoulder. “A shitty bassist is better than no bassist.” 

Sean would almost be insulted if Matt didn’t sound so genuine about it. 

“We really are thankful you could help. If it wasn’t you, it was going to have to be me, and I can’t even get a good score on Guitar Hero,” reassures Coyle while they carry their equipment outside. 

“Drinks on us next time, yeah?” adds Karolyn.

Not even guilty Sean would turn down free drinks. 

It only feels fair to help load The Quitters’ van after his shitty performance, and Sean always likes getting a peek inside a band’s van to see what they’re like. Yes, Hard Feelings has only done a long-distance tour once, but in that time, they accumulated six separate Taco Bell bags and multiple novelty air fresheners with their names on them. Sean thinks it says a lot about them. 

“Hey, we can take care of that. You can go back to Anders and your friends now.” Matt stops Sean once he goes to open the back door. 

“You sure? I don’t mind,” offers Sean. 

A moment of consideration passes before Matt continues. “Yeah, we got Danton in there, he could be sleeping. I don’t want to subject anyone else to him when he wakes up, total asshole for the first twenty minutes.” 

It’s lighthearted, but Sean gets the message. He gets a few more pats on the way back inside and takes one last look behind him as he shuts the door. 

Working his way back to his friends before Shoddy Workmanship starts their set, a thought pops in Sean’s head. More of a quick memory of the conversation he had with Chris and Anders earlier. How the opener choice was interesting, and how Danton apparently used to play in the other band. 

Something is off about it, but Sean doesn’t have time to put it together before Anders finds him first and pulls him over by the arm. It’s not long until they’re screaming the lyrics to their longtime favorite band in each other's faces. All worries of Danton and his mysterious absence were forgotten.

\-----

There is a promise among Yes, Hard Feelings to never search their own band’s name on Twitter. It’s a promise Sean breaks at least three times a week.

Today is different. They have just released the first single for their new album, and it’s in his best professional interest for Sean to monitor the responses. You know, see what people think of the direction they’re going in and help decide what will be the second single. 

Boosting his ego by sending a screenshot of a tweet to the group chat that says, “why did no one tell me the guitarist w/ the eyebags in yes hard feelings was hot?” is only a small part of it. 

Sean keeps the other tweets to himself. There’s an art to playing it cool but reading the article from Consequence of Sound with the first stream of the single one hundred times is not part of it. The article uses phrases like “insightfully hilarious” and “bittersweet” to describe Charlie’s lyrics on the track and the descriptions stick themselves in the forefront of Sean’s head. 

Every artist repeats the mantra that making music should be only for you. That you shouldn’t need the approval to love it, shouldn’t care what anyone thinks. 

Sean thinks that’s a load of shit. 

No one would perform if they didn’t want the approval. Audience members come to shows to feel less alone, and musicians play to feel a little bigger than themselves for an hour or so. Needing to matter, to find a place somewhere in some capacity, is as necessary as food, water, and shelter. For Sean, music fulfills that need. 

A text notification jolts Sean out of his head and back to the present. It’s Anders, because who else would it be. No one else would text him when he’s technically at work. 

_ “I need you to do me a solid ‘cause my pharmacy won’t give me boy juice so I gotta cause a scene.” _ The text reads. 

_ “Shoot.” _ Sean rarely says no to Anders. Only when he wants Sean to do another shot and sing _ The Curse of Curves _ at the bar with him. 

With everything Anders has done for Sean and the band, he knows he’ll be indebted to Anders for the rest of his life. And he’s okay with that.

_ “I was On My Way! to interview Danny for the zine today and we’re already running behind but now w/ the white coats callin today idk when I’ll be able to, can u do it???” _

_ “Is this for _ No Original Thoughts?” 

About a year ago, Chris from Borrasca Records and Anders started a zine to sell at small venues around the city. It features information on local bands, a way to promote some of the people Chris has signed. Sean always buys it and flips through it when waiting around on merch lines, but he’s never contributed before. 

A voice in the back of his mind reminds him of the conversation he had with Chris the other day, and how this would be a way to keep that connection going. 

There’s just one problem. _ “I’ll do it. But who the fuck is Danny????” _

\---

Sean once thought he and Noel had the shittiest apartment in Columbus. Or at least, the shittiest apartment of anyone in the Columbus music scene. Turns out he was wrong: the owner of the shittiest apartment in Columbus is Danton Heinen.

Danton lives in a not entirely legal basement apartment in a part of town Sean hates driving through for work too late at night. Several cement steps lead down to a door that makes Sean wonder if this is a prank by Anders and not anyone's actual home. Maybe he pissed Anders off and he put a hit out on Sean? Was it for making fun of that Velvet Underground album? 

Sean knocks despite his worry. Five locks unfasten before the door can crack open enough for Danton to stick his head out and see who it is. So this is the right place. 

The look on Danton’s face, wide eyes and mouth slightly open, lets Sean know that Anders hasn’t told him about the change in interviewers. Sean waves awkwardly. 

“Hey, it’s uh, Sean from-”

Danton laughs at him, laughs with him, and Sean really isn’t expecting that. “I know who you are, Sean Kuraly.” 

“Good thing, ‘cause Anders sent me here to interview you for his coloring book,” the door opens wider as Sean explains, relaxing more now that Danton is too. 

Danton gestures for him to come inside. Not that there’s much of an inside in the first place. 

“You can sit on my bed if you want. Or the floor, whichever you think is cleaner,” Danton says while doing all his locks again. “They’re both pretty bad, sorry.” 

It reminds Sean of visiting the house of a kid you’re doing a group project for school with. How it never looks like what you expect, and you always feel like you’ve been dropped in another continent even if you’re fifteen minutes from home. 

He takes a seat at the very edge of Danton’s bed, which is really just a futon in the middle of the room. 

At a safe distance away, Danton takes a seat next to him and breaks the silence. “I’m really sorry for the other night, you know, putting you on the spot like that. I wouldn’t have done it but…”

With Danton trailing off, Sean is only more confused about the events of that night. He raises an eyebrow. “But?”

Danton takes a moment to read Sean’s face before responding. It makes him feel a little self-conscious. “I didn’t know what else to do. I guess.”

“Feeling better now?” 

“What?” Danton is slightly taken back before snapping out of it. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine.” 

Considering they started off strong, Sean doesn’t want to slip back into awkwardness before the interview even starts. He looks for anything to change the subject to something more comfortable, mind rummaging through albums that came out this week while his eyes dart around the room. Eventually, he spots what may be the only novelty in Danton’s small space. A Vancouver Canucks hockey puck. 

“You watch?” Sean asks, nodding his head towards the puck.

“Not as much as I’d like. But…I’d say that’s a good thing considering where the Canucks are in the standings.” A smile plays on Danton’s lips. “I used to play.” 

“No shit! I was in a few of the high school programs, but I kind of sucked at it.” 

Sean pauses for a second before daring to ask. “Ever been in a fight?”

That catches Danton off guard, getting a genuine laugh from him. “I’m kinda flattered you think I’d stand a chance in a fight.”

“Didn’t ask if you won.” 

Silence casts over them this time, more comfortable than it was just a few minutes ago. Danton is the one to break it, which Sean considers progress. 

“I work at a program here. Helping kids learn to skate and teaching peewee hockey. It’s not bad.” He glances up at the ceiling. 

This is the most Danton has ever talked about himself. Sean doesn’t try to hold back a grin. “Any good memories? Championship winning goals in overtime?” 

“One time I went to a Canucks game and got mistaken for Carl Hagelin,” says Danton with a deadpan, and Sean bursts into deep laughter. “It’s true! Some drunk Rangers fan just saw me and…assumed. We took pictures together.”

“You went along with it?”

“I wasn’t going to argue with drunk Rangers fans.” 

Between laughter, Sean realizes they’re now closer together on the bed. 

“Can I use that for the interview? Not that you totally duped some poor Ranger fans. That you work for a hockey program.” A lot of the zine has to do with how to keep up with creating art when it’s not a full-time job, so Sean figures it’ll fit. 

“Yeah, for sure. I can tell you more about it. I mean, if you want.” There’s gentleness in his tone. Something very human in the best way as Danton asks if Sean wants to hear more about him. Like that’s not the whole reason Sean is here. 

“I’d love that.” When Sean says it, he means it. Not just because of the interview. 

“We try to give kids who wouldn’t have learned otherwise a chance to learn to play. I mostly teach how to skate and stickhandle, but I get to coach the under 10s sometimes.” Danton smooths out the fabric on the bed next to him, crossing his legs before continuing. “Hockey was the first thing I was a part of that was bigger than my every day, and you know, everyone should get that if they want it. Figured I could be part of that for someone else.”

While Danton speaks, Sean jots down the sentences on his phone, summarizing the best he can. It’s harder than it seems when everything Danton says feels important. He wishes he could just converse, listen closely so he doesn’t miss any part of what Danton’s saying. Everything out of his mouth feels like the best secret, like learning you’re getting a surprise birthday party or pizza for dinner. 

“I think I needed someone like that when I was younger,” Sean finally responds with. “Quit playing in high school ‘cause of all the homophobia. Someone was always calling me a queer, whether that was the opposing team or my own coach.” 

It’s a little vulnerable, but Sean has always been an open book. After all, he is a musician, he sings about his biggest insecurities on stage every night. 

“I got kicked off my team when they found out I’m gay.” 

Now, it’s less like Danton is telling him a secret and more like Sean overheard one. Sean tries not to be too taken aback and keep the interview on track. 

“Is that how you started playing music?”

“A little? It gave me something else to work on that had technique, I uh…I always liked how easy it is to get lost in it. Forget where you are, even. But everyone's a lot more emotional. It’s kind of a culture shock.”

At this point, Sean isn’t sure if he wants to hear more for the interview or for himself. 

“What do you mean?”

Danton crosses and uncrosses his legs again. Returning uncomfortableness that Sean’s learning he’ll just have to coax Danton out of every now and then. 

“It’s like…” A sigh accompanies the pause. “Everyone just wants to be heard and help their teammates, in music or on the ice. But on the ice, it’s clear. You do your part, maybe make the biggest hit or score the winning goal. You know what your team and coach want. But here, to help your, uh, team so to say, it’s a mental game. Everyone wants you to be vulnerable before trusting you.” 

The explanation is clearly one that Danton has been thinking about for a long time, before Sean even asked, but Sean isn’t satisfied yet. “Like, with people trying to brand themselves? Influencers and shit?” 

“Yeah! Yeah, kinda like that. It’s two different extremes. In hockey, the individual barely matters, it’s all about the team, but then people lose empathy and forget you’re a person. In music, you have to tell everything about yourself to get people to care about you. Then everyone, even strangers, they think they know you.”

Sean agrees. “It’s like Black Mirror, but with dirtier bathrooms and less pig fucking.”

Confusion overtakes Danton, leaving Sean to explain. “Sorry, I watch a lot of Netflix with Noel.” 

“I won’t tell you what I watch. Too many boring documentaries,” jokes Danton at his own expense before continuing. 

“It’s just...people don’t want to be alone when they’re sad, right? Like misery loves company and all. In hockey, it’s everyone trying to separate from themselves so much they forget to be a person. Then you got the other side of things, where people try to stand out so much with their feelings, they end up more worried no one will be at their funeral than about ending up dead.” 

That’s a quote Sean makes sure to write word for word. He can’t help but blurt out, “I always thought the biggest similarity between the two was how many people bother me. You’re really thoughtful.” 

“Thank you, I had a lot of time to think about it. Not a lot to keep me entertained in here.” He gestures to the small room surrounding them.

The most surprising thing Sean learns that day is that Danton can be good at conversation. It doesn’t end there. Despite being the one getting interviewed, Danton has Sean rank his top ten best zombie movies of all time, Danton’s attention not wavering throughout the half-hour it takes Sean to do so. 

Maybe Danton is right about everyone wanting to be heard, but Sean starts to think that he’d be alright if it was only Danton listening for the rest of his life. 

Maybe he’s just being dramatic like Noel always says he is. It doesn’t stop Sean from wishing he could lay on Danton’s bed all night.

\------

In every interview Sean’s read featuring any mildly successful band, they state that success came suddenly. That even if you work your ass off, you’ll never be prepared for how quick and unexpected it is when you “blow up.”

Before this month, Sean thought it was a PR fed answer. He was wrong. 

He wouldn’t call it success, they haven’t quit their day jobs yet, but Yes, Hard Feelings is getting there. Tonight, they’re playing their first show as a signed band all thanks to Chris Wagner and Borrasca Records. Anders, too, considering he’s the only reason Yes, Hard Feelings even got on Chris’ radar. 

It’s how Sean always envisioned it in the daydreams he used to occupy himself during work. Until a few weeks ago when one of those daydreams got interrupted by a call from an unknown number. On the other end was Chris, explaining that he followed Anders’ advice and caught one of their sets, asking to meet to talk about a one album trial record deal. 

Finally, there were talks of album pre-orders and release dates and art and the singles over a “signing dinner” that was just Chris buying them several twenty-piece McNuggets at the nicest McDonalds in Columbus. They all knew they made the right decision signing their contracts then. 

Tonight's show was booked long before Chris’ phone call, a direct support slot for a band coming from outside of Chicago to play a nearby dive bar. The headliner has a large enough following to make accepting the gig a smart move, even if it’s on a Thursday in a place an hour outside Columbus. 

With a new record deal and the second single from the album being released in a few weeks, they’re even more thankful now to have a show to keep the momentum going. 

“Brandon here tonight? We’re gonna owe him like, three beers,” asks Noel when they’re ten minutes from the venue. John’s driving, his usual role amongst the rest who argue over getting shotgun. Noel inevitably wins.

“Three _each_,” adds Charlie. 

Pressed against the window, Sean snaps out of his train of thought to answer. “He’s at Lucky’s, dude’s high demand. Offering him way more than beers these days.” 

“Some of The Quitters will be there tonight, we can give them thank you drinks for posing.” Charlie draws out the last word of the sentence. 

The long-running topic of contention, the album cover, was solved this week when Brandon offered them a few photos he took on a shitty disposable camera. Originally, the photos were to hang around Warriors Arena with Jake and Anders, but he accidentally captured the album art the four members of Yes, Hard Feelings were waiting for. 

It was a shot from the end of their set at their most recent show at Warriors. The one where they had met The Quitters for the first time. Sean’s playing on his knees in the middle of the crowd while Charlie raises his arms in the air and Noel gets ready to hit a cymbal. There’s a lot going on in the photo, but it’s clear all the excitement is taking place in someone's basement.

What Charlie is referencing is Sean’s favorite part of the photo. In the staircase behind the stage, the staircase that leads up to Jake and Anders’ actual home, Danton and Karolyn watch the chaos in a peaceful position. They’re holding blue solo cups, legs dangling from the side of the wooden stairs that lack a banister. Sean would have no problem thanking them for their role in that picture, and especially wouldn’t have a problem with having a reason to talk to Danton again. 

“We should, they make the cover more attractive,” Noel looks over at Sean, and Sean knows they’re setting up a punch line. “We don’t get any help on that front from Sean.” 

“Says the person who always looks like they’re about to cry while playing drums.” 

John intervenes while pulling into a parking spot. “Hey, come on, no need to fight. We all know Charlie looks the worst when playing.” 

Loading in the equipment doesn’t take too long. The crowd is mild, expected for a Tuesday night on the outskirts of the city, and Sean figures most of the audience will show up when the headliners due to begin. Great. 

Charlie makes sure to remark that the place would look alive if Anders and Jake had booked it, no matter the day of the week. 

By the time Yes, Hard Feelings’ set starts, about fifty unfamiliar faces are looking up at them. The crowd spends the first two songs curiously inspecting them before they stop to introduce themselves. Charlie cracks a joke about how nice it is for the audience to skip the new Real Housewives of Beverly Hills episode to see them. Sean likes to sing at the crowd when he can, but it doesn’t seem like anyone here would be able to sing back, most of them half-heartedly swaying to the beat at best.

Everyone except Karolyn and Danton. Sean notices them against the back wall, singing along. Surprisingly to Sean, Danton knows some of their songs; he’s mouthing along, bundled up in a jacket and holding a drink. It means more to him than if all fifty people in this room were singing along. 

Sean makes a beeline for the two when the band finishes putting their equipment away. 

“That has gotta be the first time I didn’t see you launch yourself into the audience while playing,” ribs Karolyn as a greeting while going to hug Sean.

“Get off the back wall next time, I’ll make sure to aim for you,” Sean replies during the embrace. Despite meeting recently, it feels like seeing a lifelong friend again. That’s an effect Karolyn seems to have on people.

To the side, Danton’s watching the two as if he’s unsure Sean wants to see him. Like Sean hasn’t been thinking about him all day. 

“Don’t hide, you get a sweaty hug from me too,” Sean prompts Danton, motioning for him to come over. 

That doesn’t take any convincing. Sean expects it to be a little awkward, because that’s how it always is with Danton. Always a little on guard, always looking over his shoulder for the nearest exit. Something Sean has made peace with and doesn’t take personally. One of Danton’s many quirks. 

But Danton doesn’t hold back at all. He rests his head on Sean’s shoulder, holding on a moment longer than was needed. Pulling away, Danton adds to his greeting. “We’ve already played your new song a million times. You’re gonna get a whole dollar from Spotify.” 

Sean raises an eyebrow, beaming at Danton. 

“I’m serious! It’s all we listened to on the way here. That, and Karolyn’s Barenaked Ladies CD,” Danton argues.

“Are you sure that’s Karolyn’s? You’re the Canadian,” jokes Sean. 

In return, he gets a fake annoyed look from Danton. “I was gonna buy some merch, but maybe I’ll order a Barenaked Ladies shirt online instead.”

Sean glances around. Karolyn already walked away to talk to Noel, leaving just him and Danton around and merch unmanned. 

“How about I walk you to our merch table, and I’ll give you half off to win you back.” 

A glimmer crosses Danton’s eyes, playfulness Sean isn’t used to but enjoys. He follows Sean to the table. “I could live with that.” 

Yes, Hard Feelings doesn’t have a lot for sale tonight, waiting for new merch to get finished along with the album. Sean offers two t-shirts, a cassette for their old EP, and patches that Torey made for them. Immediately, Danton goes for the pale blue shirt with a breast pocket with an illustration of a moth and their band’s name. Subtle and simple. 

“You got this one in a large?” requests Danton. “Medium is okay if you don’t, but I don’t want it to ride up.” 

“Is that true? Maybe I’ll give you a medium on purpose.”

His flirtation is obvious, and Sean’s glad he has to turn around and dig through a box for the shirt before Danton reacts. Luckily, Danton’s still there when he turns back around. 

They haggle over the price; Danton insists he’s not actually going to take a discount, but Sean says he doesn’t have to pay at all. Eventually, they settle on 50% off. Danton proceeds to drop all his change into the band’s tip jar. 

When Danton goes to the car to put the shirt away, he looks back at Sean like he expects him to follow. That’s all the encouragement Sean needs to glue himself to Danton’s side. 

“This your sweet ride?” Sean gestures to a beat up Civic, its red paint almost brown from wear. 

Popping the trunk, Danton answers. “First car I’ve ever owned. Only learned to drive last year.”

“You’re kidding.” 

Danton tosses the shirt in the back between some half-empty water bottles and a snow brush.

“A little. I had a permit in Vancouver, not a license. Then life happened and with moving to the states. Had to relearn all the rules.” He doesn’t look at Sean when he adds, “I miss the metric system.”

“I’m the one people rely on to drive them.” A vague hand gesture punctuates the end of Sean’s sentence. “I drive for Uber when I’m not doing this.”

“Think Brandon told me about that. Do you have different playlists for different customers? I saw a post about that on Facebook.” 

“Nope, but maybe when the album comes out, I’ll just force everyone who gets in to listen to it.” Sean’s already considered it. 

“You’re going to get stuck in traffic on purpose.”

Sounds of the next band beginning their set reach outside the venue and onto the street where Sean and Danton are. Neither makes a move to head back inside. Instead, Danton sits on top of his now-closed trunk and pats the spot next to him for Sean. 

Sean can’t argue with that.

They pass the time with discussions of the Food Network and ranking various bands’ discographies. Danton admits he’d willingly try hot sauce flavored ice cream. Sean interrupts the conversation every time a dog walks by on the street to point out its existence. 

The sky turns a darker hue as the sun goes down, days starting to last longer but not as long as Sean wants on a day like today. He wishes he could get this band to play for a few more hours so he and Danton would never have to move. 

“Nostalgia is weird because people get nostalgic for stuff they weren’t even around to miss. Like all those 90’s bands that no one liked in the 90’s but everyone wants them to make a comeback now,” Sean ponders mid-conversation towards the end of the night. There hasn’t been a moment tonight where Sean doesn’t know what to say, the two seamlessly transitioning between topics. 

“Like with American Football and all them?” A nod from Sean lets Danton continue. “Must be weird to think a chapter in your life is over only to have everyone want to read it again.” 

“It’s like if you woke up and someone published your middle school diary.” 

Danton shoots Sean a horrified look at the thought and Sean can’t help but crack up. 

“You know, my ex liked all those bands. Promise Ring and Thursday and stuff. Really ruined it for me.” Like when they first met, Danton deliberately avoids eye contact. It’s happened a lot less often tonight. 

Sean moves his hand closer to Danton in comfort. “Well, at least he didn’t ruin any _good_ music?” 

“That’s true. I mean, I can still listen to you.” 

It’s better than anything Sean could read on twitter or any review a journalist could give him.

\-----

_...Ohio’s Yes, Hard Feelings debut album _Meet Me In Mansfield_ dives head first into vocalists McAvoy and Kuraly’s insecurities intertwined with catchy melodies that one can’t help but sing along to...When the lyrics push the listener out of their comfort zone, the energetic fretwork and compelling croon of McAvoy and Kuraly make it easy to digest...Moore and Acciari lead the songs refreshing tempo changes, in a genre of music often criticized for being stuck in midtempo…_

_“You gonna come or you gonna sit in the van and hotbox all night?”_ A text from Chris interrupts Sean’s nervous reading. He doesn’t want to be the kind of musician obsessing with reviews, but who could blame Sean before his bands first ever record release show? 

So far, there haven’t been any bad reviews. A few critiques sprinkled in here and there in overall positive articles. Only three small publications have bothered to even review the album, but Sean’s just thankful anyone at all is covering Yes, Hard Feelings’ music. 

A lot of people probably don’t like it, Sean tells himself. The album just isn’t special enough for them to write why they don’t. 

That kind of thinking is what leads to him locking himself in the van again after their direct support finishes. Brandon is observant enough to know Sean needs to calm down and offers to start setting up his equipment, but Brandon can’t play the show for Sean, too. 

(Well, Sean did that for Danton. But that was different. That was _ special _

_“Anders wants to say hi.” _ A follow up text from Chris comes in. He knows the promise of Anders will always convince Sean to move. 

Yes, Hard Feelings has sold out downtown Columbus’ The Basement for their record release. The place is only 300 capacity, a small number until Sean remembers he doesn’t even have 300 friends on Facebook. Or 300 contacts in his phone. This is where Jake works when he’s not running an illegal venue out of his own basement. Between that and Anders knowing everyone who’s ever attended a show in their life, they managed to get 300 people to come. 

They even have room for full merch tables instead of a futon. Sean lets himself daydream about actually turning a profit for once instead of the usual breaking even or, God forbid, ending up at a loss. Their table is manned by Anders, an agreement they came to so he could sell the new issue of his zine there. The issue with Sean’s interview inside. 

“Yo, big shot, have time to speak to a fan?” Sean recognizes Anders’ voice before he sees him. 

“What I tell you about socializing on the clock?”

“That’s the whole job, zeebs, how else am I supposed to sell your crappy shirts!” A grinning Anders yells back at Sean. 

Sean avoided looking at the zine before, too scared to see the moment he shared with Danton printed and immortalized forever. The curiosity is too hard to fend off now with the booklets sitting right in front of him. There are various pages of illustrations Anders’ friends did for the issue and an informational page on how to bind safely at a show or on stage, until the final two pages bring Sean to the interview with Danton. It’s too dark inside to read the whole thing, but words like “hockey” and “personal” jump out.

“He was stoked on it, dude,” Anders speaks up, bringing Sean back to reality. 

“What?” 

“Danton. He loved how the interview came out.” Anders says it with an edge in his voice that implies more than Sean can understand. 

Sean closes the thin booklet. “He made it pretty easy. I just wrote what he said.” 

“Tell that to him, he was all ‘I don’t know if I’m important enough for this.” The quote comes with a comically deep voice impression that is surprisingly accurate. “Which was pretty funny. Not like you’re writing for Rolling Stone.” 

The comment unintentionally reminds Sean of Danton saying everybody wants to be heard. Maybe he meant everybody but him. 

“God, not you again!” Yells Anders over Sean’s shoulder. 

Turning around, Sean discovers the fake annoyance was at Chris. 

“I’m not here for you, I’m here for my client.” To up the dramatics, Chris puts his arm around Sean’s shoulder. Anders sticks his tongue out at them as they walk away for a moment to talk alone. 

Worry is written on Chris’ face, presumably because of Sean’s short disappearance. Sean feels guilt deep in his stomach. “You okay, man? Charlie said you were white as a sheet during the opener.” 

Sean hates when people worry about him, especially someone like Chris. He has enough on their plates. “I’m just pale, you’ll have to take it up with genetics.” 

Chris raises his eyebrows. That means business. Sean continues to reassure Chris. “Really, I’m good, just wanted to rest a bit. I’m ready to go.”

That doesn’t fully comfort him, but enough for Sean to be let off the hook. “You should probably get backstage. Charlie said if you don't get your ass back there, he’s gonna adjust the mic to Brandon’s height.” 

Considering Brandon’s 6’5, Sean gets on his feet and starts preparing to play. A quick pat on the shoulder from Chris is his motivation to run to the stage.

Before Sean leaves the dance floor, he catches the singer for The Quitters, Charlie Coyle, rustling through the zines on the table. 

Maybe it’s just Sean’s imagination, but he swears he hears Coyle say to Chris “Shocked you even wrote about me,” before Sean goes backstage. 

\----

It ends up being one of Sean’s favorite shows they’ve ever played. 

More people than normal are in the crowd that Sean doesn’t recognize, singing along to singles from the new album. A good amount of people he does recognize came out to show support. Brandon joins them for one song, screaming the bridge of an older one of Charlie’s. At the end of the set, Sean plays on the bar, a habit he doesn’t ever want to break.

Nerves from before the set are gone completely. All Sean can think is that he’s incredibly lucky to consistently play shows that are better than the last one. 

He feels a different kind of lucky when standing on the bar, singing in people's faces, and spots Danton on the back wall again. Danton sings softly through a wide grin, swaying just a little bit, and the luck Sean feels from that has to do with more than just his career. He feels it again when he finishes packing up equipment and Danton’s still against the wall. 

“You like watching me from afar?” A bold way for Sean to say hello, but he’s willing to take the risk tonight.

“Huh?” Danton doesn’t seem offended, a shy tight-lipped smile indicating he’s only pretending to be confused.

“You’re always in the back during the sets. Just watching me make a fool of myself from the wall.” 

Danton offers a short explanation. “I like taking it all in.”

“Like a Peeping Tom?” Sean is comfortable enough now to mess with Danton like this. A laugh from Danton confirms he didn’t overstep. 

“Well, you always have clothes on. But uh, Jake, can’t say the same for him.” 

Before Sean can ask what would happen if he wasn’t wearing clothes, music blares over the PA in an attempt to turn the venue into a nightclub for members of the general public. 

No one’s ready for the night to end. Sean tries something else. “I gotta finish packing shit in the van, you wanna come to watch me sweat?”

“You’re going to put me to work, huh?” Danton jokes, but follows Sean anyway. 

The street is busy compared to the one outside Warriors that Sean is used to. Lonelier too, without everyone smoking and conversing in their own social. Despite the higher frequency of people walking by and businesses lining the street, it has less heart. Less comfort. 

Except for Danton standing next to him. 

“So, where do you stand at a show then? When you’re not playing or forced to play bass last minute?” Leaning on the side of the van, Danton asks the question. Sean’s a little taken aback by him starting the conversation. 

“I used to really love being in the thick of it. Circle pits, getting shoved to the ground. That was college, when I was young and didn’t work or play in my own band.”

“You sound like _my_ Charlie.” Danton shakes his head. “Besides, weren’t you playing on the bar yelling in people’s faces, what, twenty minutes ago?” 

The affection in Danton’s voice as he recalls Sean’s stupid choices is only going to fuel Sean to do something stupid again next time they play. 

“Yeah, and my back is _killing_ me for it.” 

“Someone in your band is gonna have to start leading stretches before shows.” Danton warns. A very hockey player thing to say. 

Sean can’t help but like how funny and intuitive Danton is. How he doesn’t look for every opportunity to flaunt those things, and instead shares it like a secret to those he trusts. He’s thankful to be someone Danton trusts. 

Interrupting his train of thought, Danton speaks again. “You don’t talk much about going to college.”

“I only went for two years, then I blew a fuse and had to drop out. Wasn’t cut out for more school.” Sean finishes putting the last bit of equipment in the trunk like a real-life game of Jenga and faces Danton. “Parents still ask if I’m going back every holiday.” 

Before Danton can respond, Sean motions to the van asking if Danton would like to sit inside. He doesn’t know where his bandmates are, probably taking shots with Torey inside, but inviting Danton to his safe spot feels right. Even if it definitely smells like spilled Taco Bell and weed. 

They climb in the backbench, sitting a little closer than needed. Sean tries not to overanalyze the situation as a curious but comfortable silence drapes over them. 

It’s Danton who breaks the silence again. “I didn’t go, either. To college.” 

“They have that in Canada?” Sean says in his best deadpan. He gets a shrug back. 

“Debatable. I was supposed to go to America for college. Denver University”

“I went to Miami, which isn’t actually in Miami, it’s here in Ohio. Our teams played the Denver teams a lot. Not that I was sober enough to remember the games.” 

The memory would typically be paired with a lighthearted tone or a laugh, but Sean doesn’t bother. It was hard watching the hockey team live a dream that wasn’t even allowed to flourish for him. He’s sure Danton can relate. “Why didn’t you go to Denver?”

“I got kicked out by my parents before graduation. Lost my hockey scholarship when I got kicked off the team during that same time.” Danton lets Sean fill in the details himself. How Danton had told him during the interview he was kicked off his team for being gay, how his parents must have found out then and kicked him out. 

The thought of Danton losing his team, his chance of college, and his family at a high school age because of his sexuality makes Sean feel guilty for complaining about his parents being mad he dropped out. He makes a mental note to call his mom tomorrow to check up on her. 

Sean realizes he’s been silent too long. “God, I’m sorry, Danny.” 

The nickname slips out without a thought. Danton perks up at it. 

“It’s alright. We can be dropouts together.”

That doesn’t make the money Sean has to pay back worth it, but damn, it comes close. “Dropouts together, losers forever.” 

Sean holds out his pinky, promising mediocrity to Danton. He barely seems to notice that as he studies Sean's face before holding a hand out to interlock fingers. They keep still. Danton is making more eye contact than Sean thinks he’s seen from him their entire friendship, which is fine with him because it distracts him from thinking about how big and gentle Danton’s hand feels next to his. 

The space between them is gone. Danton’s eyes crinkle from smiling, easy for Sean to outline even in the dark. This is one of the few times Danton doesn’t have a hat on, and the curl of his hair hangs loosely past his ears. 

Sean wants to feel it, feel all of Danton at once. 

Maybe it’s in his head, but Sean has a feeling Danton is waiting for Sean to touch him. 

Sean moves slowly so Danton can stop him if he finds this weird. Moving his hand away from Danton’s, he puts it in his hair instead, lacing his fingers around the locks. When he looks back to Danton’s face, he sees Danton’s eyes are closed. 

That’s all the permission Sean needs to kiss him. 

Danton kisses back. It’s patient but excited, assuring Sean it’s mutual. Sean’s hands trail up and down Danton’s ribcage while Danton keeps his arms around Sean’s neck. It’s relaxed, calm, but Sean never doubts the passion. They end up leaning back against the seat, bumping noses too many times. Sean’s wants to go further, but he also could kiss Danton for hours. 

This isn’t something Sean does often. Romance is normally on the back burner, after focusing on art, trying to make rent, and maintaining friendships. With Danton, it’s different. Sean met him through art, then they became friends, now they’re…whatever this is. Danton just gets it. He’s different enough to challenge Sean while easygoing enough to make him not feel like shit about it. There aren’t many people that he thinks make him a better man, but Danton is one of them. 

Sean plays with the hem of Danton’s shirt to test the waters of going further. It causes Danton to pull away while still beaming at Sean. “Hey,” 

“Howdy.” 

“Is it...is it okay if this is all we do for today? I really like this, I really like you, a lot, I’m just not…”

It’s not like Sean would ever insist further, or like Danton should have to ask for his permission in his first place, but the uneven tone in which he says it makes Sean think he needs the reassurance. “Yeah, I’m good with that. The guys will be back soon, anyway.”

A laugh from Danton breaks the slight tension. “Noel’s gonna tease you about being a rock star stereotype. Making out in vans and all”

“I’ll just tease them back about the time they sexiled me on a Tuesday,” Sean states as he opens the van door and hops out to get fresh air again. Just like before, Danton follows.

Music from inside the venue PA plays even though it’s mostly cleared out now. From the sidewalk, Sean can make out the sounds of some Dashboard Confessional song he’s long forgotten the name of.

“Wanna dance?” He proposes, the night no longer young as it was when they walked out. 

Danton tilts his head slightly, skeptical. “To this?” 

“In two minutes, it’ll change to something better. We’ll make it fun”

That’s all the convincing Danton needs. He takes Sean’s hand and leans into him. 

Sean tries not to think about how Danton’s back to looking over his shoulder. Like he’s waiting for something bad to happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, no real triggers for this chapter
> 
> The chapter title is from I Was Never Your Boyfriend by Tigers Jaw
> 
> You can listen to Something About Lemons by Chumped if you want a feeling for what Yes, Hard Feelings sound like
> 
> You can listen to Too Old For This by Cayetana for what The Quitters sound like
> 
> For what Shoddy Workmanship sounds like, you can listen to Tension and the Terror by Straylight Run


	2. You're trying to be brave, and you've been brave before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, trigger warnings in endnotes. Thanks again to the same beta's mentioned in first chapter.

The release of _ Meet Me in Mansfield _ comes with a whirlwind that brings Sean and his bandmates on their first proper Midwestern tour. This has always been always Sean’s goal, his dream from day one. 

Playing music out of state is like leaving a name with “was here” after it was written in a gas station bathroom stall. It’s like pushing thumbtacks in a map and tying them together with string; it’s being everywhere at once even when you’re gone. There is an eternity in it, and who doesn’t want that? All Sean wants is to play a show in Tennessee while some country kid grabs his friend by the shirt and screams along to Sean’s worries about trying to be a good man. If he could do that, then maybe he could worry less. 

Yes, Hard Feelings ends up as direct support on a two-week, middle of the country tour with an East Coast band called Dying in Ocala. Chris is friends with their booking agent, who agreed that they could use a Midwestern band to get them some draw in new markets. Before Sean knows it, he’s packed in a van with his bandmates and Brandon, who serves as their one and only tech/tour manager, so they can play dingy venues sprinkled throughout cornfields. 

Just how Sean dreamed it. 

Tour begins in Grand Rapids, one relaxed and decently attended night before they drive west to Chicago. Having Brandon along has perks that weren’t advertised, like allowing Sean and Charlie to sneak off and explore the venue’s neighborhood before soundcheck while he holds down the fort.

“You ever see anything like it?” Sean asks Charlie while poking their heads into the bars and bookstores in the area. 

Charlie peels his eyes away from a comic in a store window, turning to smile at Sean. “I’m from New York, dude.” 

_Fair point_, Sean thinks, leaving the topic alone until they find a pizza place to settle for lunch.

“Why’d you move?” The question comes out wrong because Sean knows that Charlie came to Columbus to attend college, and now he sounds like a dick who knows nothing about his own bandmate. An amendment follows fast. 

“I mean, Ohio State, but it’s not like you don’t have a bunch of schools in the city. I just couldn’t picture leaving a place like this if I grew up there.” 

“Drive in the traffic for a few days, then you could.” A quick raise of Charlie’s bottle punctuates the sentence before he takes a sip. Sean has enough Uber traffic horror stories that he doesn’t need more convincing on that front. 

“I just figured it was more, cultured or something. Especially with music” 

Charlie shrugs. “People are always coming and going, shit’s always changing there. It was hard to feel like anything good was permanent.” 

That doesn’t really answer Sean’s question, but he leaves it and decides to think of a new topic while finishing his meal. 

Before Sean can move on, Charlie adds. “I think it’s a matter of finding a home in people and community than any kind of location. And it was hard there when people were always leaving and the places you’d spend time at were getting bought out by banks. But, maybe it’s just me. I’m a people guy.” 

A few blinks and “guess that’s true” are all Sean can muster before they talk about the ending of various Disney shows. 

The words from Charlie come back to Sean as a bunch of kids from Chicago bob their heads to songs of theirs, mouthing the choruses to the more popular ones. His mind wanders to the question of finding a home when your whole job is being away from home, trying to put a piece of yourself in other people's lives before you’re on to the next city. Whether he needs a place to come back to in order to have anything at all to give before he goes back on tour to leave parts of himself all over the country. And if that home is Anders’ and Jake’s place, Chris’ office, the stairs down to Danton’s apartment, Noel’s homework on a dining room table, a late-night car ride with Charlie, or all of the above.

He breaks a string on the last song and cuts his index finger. 

While the only bands on the whole tour are Yes, Hard Feelings and Dying in Ocala, each night features a local opener that plays first. Tonight, a two-piece pop-punk act that Sean only heard of does the honors for Chicago. Their twenty-minute set isn’t notable to Sean in the slightest, but the singer makes a point to find him as they pack away their equipment. 

“Crowd seemed pretty impressed by you guys,” The singer, who Sean failed to get the name of, announces as he and Noel loads parts of the drum kit in. 

“Helped that you guys got them warmed up.” It’s a total lie, but Sean knows how to play the industry game.

Sean can tell by the hesitant way the man is standing there he wants something, didn’t just come over because he felt so impressed by Yes, Hard Feelings’ set. If only he could spit it out so Sean could focus on what he’s doing.

Checking over his shoulder again, the singer finally asks. “We’re thinking about doing a show or two in Ohio, you recommend any bands to play with?” 

It’s not a question Sean can answer “our band” to, as much as he’s always looking to play. What he can do is plug his friends' bands. Putting down the box he’s carrying, he turns to look at the man in the eye. He briefly recalls John saying in an interview that people like talking to Sean because he’s “genuine” but doesn’t have time to dwell on the thought.

“Yeah, couple good acts coming up now. Area 51 Code are fun to play with, they got an album out soon. We play with The Quitters a lot- reliable and have connections. Liminal Spaces kinda sound like you guys if that’s what you want.” 

The singer isn’t looking at him, too busy on his phone typing in the names Sean listed. “Who was the second band you said again?” 

“The Quitters.”

“They got the bassist from Meet Your Quota, right?”

The question blindsides Sean, an answer he can only give based off what he overheard from Chris. “He doesn’t play in that band anymore. Only the one.” 

A laugh explodes from the guy like it’s obvious. Sean wonders why he even asked in the first place. 

“Probably won’t play with them, that guy’s a dick. The song about him is good, I’ll give him that.” Before Sean can defend Danton or ask further, the singer closes the conversation. “I’ll check out the other two, thanks, man.”

Sean looks back to the van where Noel stares at him, bewildered, before giving an exaggerated shrug. It must be obvious Sean’s on edge because Noel tries to distract him with talks of how the person hosting them tonight invited them to karaoke and they’re going to try to convince Charlie to do _Sk8r Boi._

As soon as he has a few minutes of alone time, Sean finds himself googling Meet Your Quota songs and scrolling as quickly as possible through their discography before someone comes back to the van. Finding the one about Danton is easy, considering the title is Does Anything Rhyme with Vancouver. The whole thing would be damn near hysterical and cringy if it weren’t for the lyrics. 

Nothing about the song, from what Sean would like to pretend is an objective point of view, is actually good. A standard boring at best and embarrassing at worst pop-punk song with its subject matter not helping. The main lyric hook of Meet Your Quota’s singer screaming _“You’ll die doing what you did second best/playing the victim and putting people who love you to the test”_ would normally get Sean, and anyone with taste, to turn the song off immediately. 

Without context, that’s what Sean would do. If he didn’t know the way Danton plays bass with his hat pulled down, always refusing to look at the crowd. How desperate he had been to have someone fill in on bass the night they played with Meet Your Quota, hiding in the van after. The memory of Danton saying, “People you never met before think they know more about you than you do” and how he stands on the back wall all the time. The time he told Sean that his ex-boyfriend ruined The Promise Ring for him and the lyrics in the shitty song about him that state _“if there’s anything I could undo/I wouldn’t show Nothing Feels Good to you.”_

It all would be borderline funny if it didn’t force Sean to put all the pieces together. Help him figure out why Danton always nervously looks over his shoulder when they’re together.

Sean could really use a drink at this karaoke night.

\---

“I wish Danton was here.”

Sean isn’t sure if he had already said it, so he says it again. The groans his bandmates let out confirm that this isn’t the first time tonight he’s whined about missing the boy back home. Or the second. 

On the way to the bar, their host invited Yes, Hard Feelings to, they made an impulse decision to stop and get a group picture in front of the _Greetings from Chicago_ mural. It sounded like a good idea when John said the painting was only a few blocks away. Except now it’s too dark, Sean can’t keep his thoughts straight, and Brandon’s attempt at looking cool by laying down in front of the mural just makes him look drunkenly passed out.

No cops have stopped them yet, even as Charlie threatens to kill Sean for non-stop talking about Danton. That’s the real win. 

Sean snaps his own separate photograph as they walk away, luckily only coming out slightly blurry. The pregaming they’d done at the show was hitting hard. He just hopes it’s not too obvious he’s sending the picture to Danton with 23 emojis as the caption. 

“You got a one-track mind, you know that, right?” Charlie teases as Brandon tries to work out where they’re going using Google Maps. 

It’s not a statement Sean can deny. He’s been planning the texts he wants to send Danton from all the cities’ monuments they’ll visit since they left Columbus. Maybe even since before they left. 

“That’s how I get what I want, babe,” a slur of words escapes Sean. 

“I don’t think it’s Charlie you want anything from,” Noel joins Charlie in teasing. “Or that you’re trying to call _babe_.”

“Yeah, we can’t give you sex with Danton.” Always blunt, Charlie tacks on the sentence with a smirk. 

The sound of his phone vibrating stops Sean’s desperate search for a comeback. 

In response to the picture of the mural, Sean receives a picture of Matt and Jake sharing a chocolate bar the size of their heads in the back of The Quitters’ van. The caption reads _“Greetings from Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory?” _

_“Show alright?”_ Sean keeps it simple in his intoxicated state. If he remembers correctly, The Quitters are at a strange showcase performance and fair today. 

_“All the college kids make me feel older than I am.”_ A quick message is sent before Danton follows up with a second. _ “It was fun. I even moved around a bit. Next thing you know I’ll be climbing tables like you :^}” _

Texting distracts Sean from his surroundings. He’s completely unaware that they make it to the bar until Charlie’s grabbing his arm to pull him through the door. It’s a hole in the wall joint on a Tuesday, empty and open for the group to embarrass themselves. Between that and a five-dollar wing special, Sean’s sold on the night out.

He knows John will yell at him about living in the moment if he’s on his phone too much. Sean shoots a last-second text back to Danton. _” What’s a good karaoke song?” _

_ “Ocean Avenue. My favorite song subtly about cocaine.’ _

Sean’s thankful he’s got it bad for someone with good taste. 

They take a moment to get comfortable in their surroundings and gather more liquid courage before talking about what to sing. Brandon uses an outdated-by-the-Internet book of song selections for suggestions to the band where they’re holed up in a corner booth. No one wants to go first. 

“Me and Sean should be excused. We sing on stage every night; no one needs to see it again.” Charlie isn’t against humiliating himself for his friend’s laughter, and Sean’s no stranger to making himself a fool for the sake of a party, but singing is what they want to do for a living. 

“Yeah, but you’re not singing, Kelly Clarkson,” counters Noel.

“What if we hurt our voices? We’re on vocal rest,” Sean argues less to avoid singing and more to mess with Noel. 

“Vocal rest means you don’t speak, and none of us would argue against that.” Noel doesn’t miss a beat. 

The banter gets a good reaction from the rest of the table, who begin to holler at the heat of the insults. 

It doesn’t matter. Sean has a plan he’s going with. “Okay, how about this.” 

Brandon looks up from flipping through the binder full of songs to listen.

“I will sing whatever embarrassing song of your choice,” The excitement is extremely evident on facial expressions around the table. “But, two of you have to sing _Ocean Avenue_ by Yellowcard first and let me film it for personal use.” 

Everyone looks a little bewildered, the supposed catch sounding suspiciously tame. It doesn’t take long for them to shrug and figure out who makes a good duet. 

Noel and John take one for the team. They get ironically passionate about it and switch off vocals each line of the bridge. It’s complete with animated gestures at each other during the final chorus. Perfect to send over to Danton, even if he has to fulfill his end of the bargain and sing _ Party in the U.S.A. _ before he does anything. 

Sean keeps close to the booth, missing Brandon’s rendition of _Tik Tok_ so he can connect to strong enough signal to finish sending the video to Danton. No one seems to pay mind to him until Charlie comes back to the table with drinks for both of them. 

“Okay, what gives? Did you just miss middle school dances or was there something more to acting weird about Yellowcard songs?” 

The Long Island accent tints a fake serious tone Charlie plays up, sending Sean into a fit of giggles. 

“Just standard blackmail.” 

Charlie raises an eyebrow, and Sean knows his own inability to stop grinning isn’t helping him lie. It’s best to give it up before Charlie tries to twist his arm in the literal sense, the former sports star bastard. “Alright, alright, if you gotta know, song suggestion was Danton’s. I needed you guys to look embarrassing so I could look better to him. Bulletproof.” 

Laughing at the explanation, he takes a seat next to Sean. “You got it bad, man, I’m telling you.” 

Instincts tell Sean to deny it, but there’s no point. Not when he hasn’t stopped bringing up Danton all tour.

“He’s just... really cute, okay.” Sean takes a few gulps of his beer, avoiding the look Charlie’s giving him.

“Danton’s not bad looking, I’ll give you that.”

If only it were as simple as that. 

“That’s not the only thing, ‘cause it’s like...he’s so real, Charlie, you know? Everyone is trying to be the wildest guy, or the best guitar player, or the fastest drinker, or the one with the best jokes, including me. But there’s none of that shit with him. You know how nice it is to have someone who really gives a shit without needing the world to validate it?”

Sean doesn’t know if anything is making sense, but Charlie seems to be following. He continues.

“He doesn’t need other people’s approval to, like, be who he is, or make the art he wants. And he doesn’t make me feel like I have to be approved by everyone in the room first to be happy, like, everywhere else I go.” 

“Well, I’m happy for you.” Sincerity highlights Charlie’s words. “Just be careful if you don’t wanna blow up your spot. Brandon _is_ close with him, alright?”

Every time Sean thinks he has Danton figured out, has a good understanding of his daily life, something fairly mundane that he should know gets revealed to him. 

There’s nothing wrong with Brandon and Danton being friends, but normally this is the type of information Sean would know. Especially when he talks to both parties. Sean thought he earned Danton’s total trust already, but he’s reminded Danton keeps a lot of his life in different compartments. The song Sean heard a few hours ago gives him a good understanding of why.

“I didn’t, actually. Thanks for the heads up.” 

Sean attempts to sound even in tone, but uncertainty must be evident in his voice with how Charlie rushes to respond. 

“They’re not, like...Well, it’s pretty recent. Just kept running into each other at shows, and I think Brandon could tell Danton’s an independent guy. Doesn’t hang with many people in Columbus. You know how Brandon latches on to the quiet ones. So, he asked Danton if he wanted to meet on Thursdays for breakfast, and they share some recs of terrible movies together.” 

There’s a pause before Charlie adds on “It’s not like how you two are. They’re like long lost siblings or something.” He always babbles on when he’s nervous. 

A burst of laughter explodes from Sean. “Dude, I didn’t think they were gonna fuck. Danton’s too normal for Brandon’s taste. I’m worried I’m not paying enough attention to my friends. I don’t want anyone to think I don’t care.” 

Charlie gives Sean a sympathetic look. 

“I don’t think it’s that either. They’re just kinda weirdos. Besides, whenever you’re around, you’re the only person who exists to Danton. Maybe...just ask more about what’s going on with him now instead of trying to, like, solve him or whatever. I know you hate not knowing everything about everyone, or being able to consume someone in one sitting like a song, but everyone would rather be treated like a person instead of a riddle.” 

He’s doing it again, the rambling. The worst part for Sean is that Charlie’s right, so all he can do is sit there and listen. 

“I know you do care about him, and how you love people like you binge-watch shows. But not everyone knows you like I do.” There’s a sigh from Charlie, and for the first time in a few minutes, the two make eye contact. “I hope you know I’m going to embarrass you by dedicating a song to him on your behalf.” The advice from Charlie closes with a joke, something the members of their band do often. 

It’s the kind of support Sean wants and expects. “I’ll cut your mic before you’re able to.” 

The rest of the night passes with many drunken early 2000’s song duets and the deterioration of Sean’s ability to type. They don’t get to sleep until nearly four in the morning when they have to be up at nine to drive again. Sean takes drugs given to him by the previous night’s opening band and offers to take the first driving shift since he’s more awake than any of them. It’s not something he minds. 

This is what he’s waited for, and he doesn’t want to miss a single moment of it. Even if he needs a little help.

\----

Music has always been what keeps Sean together. Starting with when he quit hockey in high school and refused to tell his parents the truth about why he no longer loved the game and wasn’t trying for an athletic scholarship. Instead of talking through his sexuality crisis with them, Sean looked for comfort by listening to _ Commit This to Memory _ daily.

When Sean felt directionless in his freshman year of college, Shoddy Workmanship’s self-titled album gave him the courage to quit school and pursue music. Something Corporate’s discography got him through his first breakup after coming out and getting a boyfriend. 

So now, sitting at The End in Nashville before tonight’s show, it’s troubling how miserable Sean feels. The cause isn’t just the heat, lack of sleep, or not having eaten fruit in two weeks. Sean knew that touring would be grueling, and still finds it more appealing than a nine to five every day. 

So why does he want to be home right now? 

A voice in the back of Sean’s head all morning has been screaming the scary questions. Why does he feel like shit in the first place? If he feels unsatisfied on tour, then what the fuck is he doing here?

There’s no time to look for the answers. Sean spends the morning popping pills with the promoter instead. 

The band is nursing beers in the backroom after soundcheck to cool off in front of the fan. Across the table, Charlie and John are debating what superhero moves could be remade better while Sean half listens. The pills take the edge off the hot Southern day. It’s the closest he’s gotten to a good night's sleep or a clear head in a few days. 

“Sean? You listening?” Charlie asks, face hard to read with his sunglasses on even though they’re inside. 

“I zoned out when you said Thor.” Draped over a chair, exhaustion weighs down Sean’s voice. 

John shakes his head and smiles. “Look at your email, got news from Chris.”

Checking his email means moving to grab his phone from the table, a task that sounds impossible right now, but if it’s from Chris it must be worth it. Chris has been getting them more shows as their new manager than Sean thinks he’s booked in his entire life. Sometimes, he’s a hard ass about it who sends fifteen emails a day, but that’s the kind of passion Yes, Hard Feelings wants from a manager. 

The subject lines are always funny. This one says “You better not be busy the first weekend in June...” before a series of screenshots detailing a festival lineup. The caption reads “Yes, Hard Feelings will play midday on the largest stage at Spring Fling in Cleveland. Don’t fuck it up.” 

Holy shit. That’s one of the biggest festivals of their genre in Ohio. 

A festival that books bands they could only dream of playing with. Bands that have enough people who give a shit about them that they can actually make a living playing music. 

“Is this for real?” Sean is grinning, the most energized he’s been all day. Charlie’s beaming right back at him. 

“I don’t think Chris is clever enough to make a fake lineup for this so, yeah. It’s real.”

Rereading the sentence, Sean takes a minute to fully process the news before reviewing the rest of the information sent. Most of it is technicalities- what the guarantee is, the backline, exact set time- before getting to the list of confirmed bands at the bottom. Yes, Hard Feelings was definitely one of the last bands booked. Chris had worked on booking this for a while, probably before anyone was confirmed, but the festival didn’t confirm them until now. 

The festival isn’t huge. It’s a one-day affair with two stages scattered with up-and-coming Midwestern acts and some established bands in the alternative scene. Sean immediately recognizes Fake Detective, a nice Detroit band that always hosts them when they’re in town, and The Quitters, who are the lowest billed band for earliest in the day. 

Excitement doesn’t last long before Sean sees Meet Your Quota billed near the top. 

For a moment, Sean considers complaining to Charlie and John. Considers telling them what he knows. But the idea of opening his mouth and explaining all the pieces and waiting for their reactions feels impossibly exhausting. Besides, he already knows they’re gonna tell him the right thing to do is to mind his own business because Danton hasn’t told him of his own accord yet for a reason.

Sean has never been one to sit idly by. He’d rather not be told he’s making a bad decision as he opens up a text message to Danton.

Paired with a picture of the lineup, Sean sends a text to Danton with the caption _” Did you know about the lineup???”_ One that’s vague enough that Sean could just be talking about them both playing, but opens the door for more. 

The two have been communicating at least once a day since Chicago. Danton’s always quick to respond if it’s after work hours like it is now. 

Except this time, Sean gets left on read. 

It’s a little too much for Sean to deal with this close to the show, even though he knows he’s reading a little too much into something he doesn’t actually know. So he decides to the rest of the pills he was given, wrapped in a Ziploc bag in his pocket.

There’s a hope from Sean to hide what he’s doing in plain sight, so it doesn’t strike anyone as weird, but Charlie catches his gaze and raises an eyebrow. 

“Careful, you’re gonna take yourself out before the show at this rate.”

Sean knows what he’s doing. 

“I’m not missing any fucking show.”

John doesn’t look up from the other end of the table. He knows Sean isn’t going to listen. So, Sean takes another pill and tries to ignore the read receipt from Danton and focus more on his bandmate’s conversations. He doesn’t think about what it must be like to hear someone sing about hating your guts.

\----

They make it to the third to last day of the tour before Sean fucks the whole thing up.

It’s in Kentucky of all places. Sean’s truly felt like he’s bursting at the seams this week, no longer able to handle the wear and tear. This hasn’t been an intense tour schedule-wise, nor are their sets that long in the first place as the opener. 

Sean figures out it’s being constantly evaluated that’s taking its toll.

The final straw is the argument with a promoter overtaking a merch cut the night before. Some king of a no-name local Kansas City scene. Sean and John go back and forth with the man. Merch profits are the only way they can pay for gas to get to the next city, and the venue said nothing about taking a cut of merch in the email. He calls them dicks under his breath before giving up on the argument. It occurs to Sean that they may get to keep their money, but that this promoter is going to convince everyone he works with how terrible they are without Yes, Hard Feelings giving their side of the story. 

That’s when Sean realizes it doesn’t matter how much passion he puts in, how vulnerable he gets on stage. Every person he interacts with can decide how genuine that is on a whim, years of work discredited in a snap judgment. 

The constant conversation with virtual strangers, whether it’s the bartender or local band or a fan, where he needs to be at his best or else be viewed as the worst have him on edge. This is what he always wanted, to be heard, to give something good back to the world no matter how small. But this tour has made Sean realize how little control he has over the way people see him and hear his band’s music. 

When he can’t get an energy boost from a joke from Noel or a sarcastic comment from Charlie, he drinks or takes whatever drug is offered to him. It’s the only way to get through it.

Sean was more of a social partaker of drugs in Columbus, not having the same anxiety when he’s back home interacting with friends. The rest of the band hasn’t been psyched on the increase in substance, but have kept their mouths shut to get through the rest of the tour. 

Until now. Sean wakes up laid across the back seat of the van, clock reading 8:17 PM. They should be on stage. 

The inside of his mouth is dry, and it feels like someone took an axe to his head. 

Every part of Sean’s body aches and begs him not to sit up, but he knows it’ll only get harder the longer he waits. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust and focus. Sean sees John across the parking lot on the phone, Charlie and Noel slouching against the van, hands in their pockets. 

“What the fuck.” Not Sean’s best opener, but he’s not exactly in a creative mood. 

Charlie and Noel turn to him, startled. They stand there for a moment with their mouths open until Noel breaks the silence. 

“Are you...how are you feeling, dude?” 

Patience is absent on Charlie’s end. His sunglasses are on even though it’s dark. “John’s calling Chris. He’s gonna get us money for a hospital.”

The sentence wakes Sean from his groggy state in seconds. “I don’t have to go to a hospital! What the hell? I’m fine.” 

Sean’s outburst gets John’s attention from across the parking lot, and Sean feels more panicked at the thought of Chris on the other end. At the idea of letting him down. 

“I don’t need a fucking hospital; tell him I don’t need one.” 

“Shut up, Sean, sit down for fuck's sake,” demands Noel, avoiding Sean’s gaze. 

Charlie’s not looking at Sean either, biting his lip until he breaks. “We had no idea what you took. We didn’t know if you’d be okay and there’s nothing out here for miles, and we have no money.” 

“What, you never saw anyone pass out before? It happens twice a week at Warriors.” It feels overdramatic to Sean. They’re too early for their behind the music special over a few too many pills and drinks. 

“But it’s never you, never someone I give a shit about,” spits out Charlie through gritted teeth. “We missed our set.” 

John’s off the phone now, walking toward them. Sean feels guilty rather than defensive. He rubs his arm while sitting up in the backbench, legs dangling out the side of the van.

“I’ll make it up to you guys, I’ll stay at merch all day tomorrow.” 

“We’re not playing tomorrow, we’re going home.” A matter of fact statement comes from John, and Sean’s back to angry, face hot and red.

“Oh, is the solution is to miss more shows? Because of one mishap? This happens all the time on tours, in music. It’s not a big deal. I’m fine now, look, I sound fine. That’s all I need. Is this not-”

“Sean, if you don’t shut up, I’m going to make you need an ambulance.”

Noel’s even-toned anger gets the other band members’ attention. Only then does Sean notice Brandon’s absence. He must be inside the venue. 

With all eyes on them, Noel continues. “I care about you as a friend more than I care about you as a singer. Same for Charlie, and same for John. And I’m not having you go 27 club on me on our first tour. What’s going on?” 

Now, Sean’s back to guilty. 

“I don’t have a drug problem, you know. Like, it wasn’t going to be like this when we got back.” 

Noel gives Sean a reserved smile. “I know, I know you don’t. You got a perfectionism problem, though, and if it doesn’t drive you insane, it’ll drive me insane.”

All four let out polite laughter, anything to clear the tension from the air. There’s still a lot more to be said. 

“I just…” Sean lets out a sigh and adjusts his position in his seat. “This is all I really have left, you know? I’ve been working towards this for years. Like my light at the end of the world’s most traffic-jammed tunnel. I worked my ass off for it, and I don’t want to waste it or be ungrateful. 

Except when a venue doesn’t have air conditioning, I get cranky, or I consider killing Charlie for singing _Life Is A Highway_ for three days straight, and I’m not at my best for a fan who then decides we’re the worst and won’t listen to us again. And I wonder why I’m like that, because this is what I worked towards and what I gave up everything for.” 

No one seems angry- they’re relieved that Sean is talking about it. He wonders briefly if he should have opened up months ago. Like when he’d hide in the van before shows because he was worried this would be the set everyone decided they didn’t like the band anymore. 

“If this doesn’t make me happy, I’m not sure anything will,” Sean admits.

“Sean, you could be at Disney Land and you’d still be in your right to get mad at Charlie singing the same song for the sixteenth time,” Noel breaks the silence.

“Hey!” Charlie elbows Noel in the ribs, then looks back at Sean. “But seriously, bro, even Beyoncé has bad days. She got cheated on.”

“I’m not sure why you’re comparing me to Beyoncé, but I’ll take it.”

“What I’m saying is, where you belong is going to be imperfect. It’s going to suck sometimes and there’s going to be people you don’t like. That’s just how it is. But I know when I see you on stage with me that you’re where you’re meant to be. I know it ‘cause you care this much to worry, and I see how much work you put into this dumb music scene to make everyone happy and get it as close to perfect as anywhere can be.”

It’s been a long day. That’s what Sean blames for beginning to tear up.

“It’s kind of like...I know my friends care about what I have to say, but I want to bridge the gap with the people I’ll never be able to meet so they don’t feel as alone as I have. I want to share the good things I get to learn, you know, knowing all of you, or all our friends back home, with the rest of the world who may not be as lucky. But I can’t control what people I don’t know think of me.” 

“That’s noble and shit, but fuck them,” declares Noel through a smile. “Can’t help other people if you kill yourself, and I care more about you than I do some kids in Kentucky.” 

“Maybe you shouldn’t say that so loudly,” John says, getting them all to laugh real, genuine laughter. Laughter that was needed badly in a time like this. 

“Noel’s right. You gotta take care of yourself and the people around you if you wanna have something worth saying in the first place.” It’s John’s turn to say his piece. “Like, I thought Jawbreaker saved my life, but my dad’s the one that taught me how to change a tire which actually saved our lives in St. Louis.”

“Our next album is gonna be a _For Dummies_ audiobook, then?” 

With Sean trying his hand at humor, the four know it’s going to be okay. 

A few moments pass where none of them know what to do next, waiting for some kind of direction but wanting the peacefulness to last. John calls Chris back to update him before going over a game plan. 

“Chris is sending us money for a hotel for the night. Figured we can all get a good night's sleep and decide what to do with the last two shows in the morning.” 

A hotel is better than a hospital. Sean will take it even if it means Chris is probably worrying. On the way, Sean makes the final decision. 

“I can do the last two shows if you can. Especially Columbus.” 

\----

On the night the photo for _ Meet Me in Mansfield’s_ album cover was taken, Warriors Arena had been half full with gaps dotting through the crowd like drawn constellations. Tonight, at the homecoming show and last tour night for Yes, Hard Feelings, it’s so packed at Warriors you can barely move. 

The crowd is favoring the basement over the backyard despite the decent weather, maybe because they’re that excited for the bands or maybe because they’re avoiding mosquitoes. Sean watches the opening bands from over the audience’s heads from the top of the staircase where his band is loading in. 

The other four band members ran ahead to heckle Torey about _ finally _ doing merch for them and how he worked for every other band in Ohio before working for them. Friends are already encircling Noel and John to give them alcohol. 

Making fun of his friends and getting free beer are two very enticing things for Sean, but he needs a moment to appreciate the crowd. Maybe it’s nothing more than a bunch of kids swarming a basement to have something to do, but it’s a bunch of kids who thought they were worthwhile enough to come to this show and not somewhere else. Intertwined with a lot of friends who want to help him say it. 

After everything in Kentucky, the sight is like aloe on a sunburn. 

“You alright, man?” 

Brandon’s voice comes from behind him, carrying him a forgotten capo in from the van. He’s good at those small details. 

“Yeah, fantastic.” Sean turns his back to the crowd to face Brandon. “Lot of people.”

“Better hope your tech doesn’t fuck up tonight, huh?” Light dances around in Brandon’s eyes as he pokes fun at himself. 

“When I see a crowd this big, all I can think is that I’m gonna get on stage and they’re gonna realize they made a mistake coming.” 

Chatter from the basement echoes up the stairs and they’ll have to get ready to play soon. Moving in to comfort him, Brandon puts an arm around Sean. 

“Hey, it’s gonna go great. You know, this was one of the best tours I’ve been a part of?”

The sentiment means something coming from Brandon, who has more experience than most people his age, hell, most people in this scene. Sean wonders if it’s actually true. “Even when I made you lose a day of work in Kentucky?”

“Even when you peed in a Gatorade bottle in the van when we were lost in Illinois.” 

Fair enough. 

Using the arm around Sean’s shoulder, Brandon slowly starts to guide him down the stairs. “I’m proud of you. Not many people love this job as much as you do, or they don’t love it for the right reasons.” 

Emotional intensity and honesty can be hard for Sean to handle. Sure, he’s a musician, but it’s different when that intensity is covered by loud guitars and screaming. Sean was taught to be humble, a lesson ingrained in him through playing sports. He’s always preferred the work of a team he contributes to, whether that’s his old hockey team or his current band, that gets recognized rather than him as an individual. Despite this, Brandon’s knack for making vulnerability comfortable keeps Sean from cringing away from the statement. 

Sean doesn’t have time to ponder Brandon’s words any further. It’s time to take the stage.

\----

"This next song is called Out My Window, and on behalf of my bandmate Sean right here who’s going to sing it…”

Sean doesn’t like where Charlie is going with this at all. 

“I’d like to dedicate it to his _ very _dear friend Danton.”

Whistles and encouraging cheers echo through the crowd. Sean considers breaking up the band on stage right then. 

(Then he remembers all the times he’s made fun of Charlie on stage and figures they’re about even.) 

During recent Yes, Hard Feelings shows, Sean and Charlie have dedicated songs to the following: the hot dog vendor outside, John Moore’s mom, Noel’s professor who gave them an A they definitely didn’t earn, the inventor of air conditioning, and everyone who has ever drawn 18 or more cards in Uno. Sean knows Charlie dedicating a song to Danton on his behalf shouldn’t be a big deal; everyone knows how the band messes with each other. 

It doesn’t make singing the love song any easier. 

Sean’s pattern of thinking about Danton when singing the lines _“I’ve gotten real damn good at being alone/but there’s something about you that keeps me glued to the phone” _ every time they’ve played this song on tour doesn’t help at all.

There’s an obscene number of people Sean hasn’t seen in two weeks helping run this show, all of whom he needs to talk to, but he figures there’s plenty of time later in the night to do so. Sean gets offstage and beelines past Anders and Chris to find Danton. 

Out in the yard, he finds Danton having an animated conversation with his drummer, Matt. It’s Matt who catches Sean’s eye first and waves him over.

“Great set, dude. Ask your drummer what sticks they use for me.” A pat on Sean’s shoulders accompany the words as Matt looks for an excuse to leave. “I’m gonna find Charlie.” 

Sean avoids reading too much into Matt leaving so quickly, avoids relating it back to Charlie saying _’whenever you’re around you’re the only person who exists to Danton’._

Luckily, he’s distracted by Danton pulling him into a hug. “It’s good to see you.” 

The tone of Danton’s greeting is a lot different from the typical ‘great set’ comments he hears. Instead, Danton’s words are a whisper into the curve of Sean’s neck. 

“Good to be back.” They embrace a few seconds longer than Sean remembers as standard before pulling away. “Sorry about my dumbass bandmate.”

Insulting Charlie McAvoy is Sean’s go-to icebreaker.

“Oh, so that song _wasn’t _for me?” Danton teases him, avoiding eye contact. 

“Well, it could be, but that’s not for all those people to know.”

The flirtation is strong enough for Sean to feel himself blush, but Danton’s grin makes it worth the risk. 

“That’s my favorite song on the album. The vocals are pretty good, too.” Meeting Sean’s eyes, Danton holds back a grin with the indirect compliment.

Sean plays dumb. “I’ll tell the singer you liked it.”

“You know him? You should get me an autograph.” 

Sean is certain that every joke is at least fifty percent funnier to him if it’s coming from Danton. He won’t think about why right now. 

“About time I get a happy song dedicated to me,” continues Danton. 

At the staircase, Noel’s dropping equipment outside loud enough to draw their attention. Banter continues as they help with load out. A possibly too in-depth conversation about _Gives You Hell_ by the All-American Rejects is followed by Danton educating Sean on country music drama as they make several trips to the car. Time passes more quickly than it normally does when loading out. By the time the majority of the van is packed, the headliner is beginning their set. 

Sweaty and leaning against the van, neither man begins to rush inside to catch the last act of the night. Sean wants to stay out here with Danton and it’s looking like the feeling’s mutual. 

Now is probably the time to ask the question, in person, that Danton avoided when Sean texted him in Nashville. The best course of action is approaching the subject of Spring Fling as open endedly as possible. Sean’s good at easing people into hard conversations. 

“So, speaking of badly dedicating songs to you, should I make sure Charlie doesn’t try it again at Spring Fling when we’re both playing.” 

While keeping a tight-lipped smile, apprehension frames Danton’s face. 

“Well, uh, I don’t actually know if...I don’t know if we’re gonna be playing that,” Danton stutters. 

Hearing the defeat in Danton’s voice feels worse than when he woke up in the van a few days ago. Worse than Nashville heat. Or being stuck in hours of traffic with annoying customers at work.

How Danton could be able to turn down a huge opportunity for not only him, but his bandmates, that they were lucky to get so early- something Sean has put in every drop of blood, sweat, and tears from the past two years to secure- is beyond him. Jealous and anger brewed inside Sean. He thought Danton trusted them. 

What’s the point of music if not to push boundaries? If he won’t leave his comfort zone, why is Danton even here?

“You’re gonna throw away one of your best chances to make it because you don’t wanna run into some shitty ex?” A few too many beats of silence pass before Sean finally asks the question. 

Danton’s eyes are wide, mouth slightly open with a loss for words. Sean fills the silence with a shaking voice.

“I mean, I get it, it sucks, but you’re letting the bad guys win and get the opportunity you all worked hard for. How the fuck is anything going to change if we just stay home and lock our doors?”

“I really, really don’t think you get it.” This is the closest Danton’s been to anger since Sean’s met him, a usually calm guy even the time when Jake forgot to gas up the van and they broke down at the side of the road. 

“I’ve met my fair share of shitty band dudes, enough to know they get to stay shitty band dudes because no one ever challenges them. You don’t even have to stay for their set if you don’t wanna hear them sing about you but at least show up for the afternoon.” 

Sean regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth. The sentiment he wants to convey is there, but he knows he could have worded it better. His intention had been to give a similar motivation to the tough love one his bandmates gave him a few days back, but seeing the way Danton recoils away from him makes Sean question his tact. 

“How’d you even…” is all Danton can manage. He’s looking at Sean like he’s saying Danton’s childhood puppy didn’t actually run away, or that he’s actually adopted.

It’s okay. Sean can fix this. He can make this alright; he just has to explain.

“I’m just saying, it’s not just you. It’s whoever else has to interact with this guy and your bandmates and-”

“Are you done yet?” Someone interrupts from behind Sean’s view. 

Both of them turn around to see Charlie Coyle leaning against the nearby fence to Anders’ and Jake’s house. Of course, this is Sean’s luck. It’s going to be a lot harder to smooth this over and fix it now. 

“Charlie, it’s okay, I can handle-” 

Danton attempts to reassure Coyle, but Coyle doesn’t bite as he walks over. “He’s gonna yell at you all night as if his opinion fucking matters because he played to a crowd that’s going to forget him by tomorrow.”

Ouch. This is past the point of de-escalating. 

“I’m just trying to do what’s right for someone I care about.”

It’s Sean’s last-ditch attempt to calm things down and have no one go home upset. By the look on Coyle’s face, he’s done the opposite. “You care so much you can’t have basic fucking empathy? Maybe you’re no better than the person he’s trying to avoid.”

_”Charlie,”_ warns Danton in a shaking voice. 

Coyle takes a deep breath before slamming his hand against the van, arms on either side of Sean’s neck so he’s pinned. From the corner of his eye, Sean watches as Danton flinches. It hits Sean that he’s probably a bigger asshole than he knows right now and should shut up and listen. 

“Look, Sean, I like you,” starts Coyle, and Sean thinks he’s definitely going to get murdered. He still doesn’t think he’s entirely wrong but maybe he should have just stayed out of it. “I like your band, I like your friends, hell, I’d even like to consider you a friend. But if you ever act like this again- this, acting like you’re fucking Doctor Phil because you’re pissed you weren’t allowed to open up for whatever shitty emo band-I’ll snap your neck and throw your body in the gutter, you understand?”

A gutter is a pretty bad place to hide a body, but now is not the time to say that. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not who you need to apologize to.” 

Coyle unpins him. The person Sean does need to apologize to is nowhere to be found.

The commotion took long enough that the last band is finishing up and the crowd is emptying into the yard. Sean looks for Danton, eyes scanning every corner of the place. He doesn’t make it very far before he’s stopped by Torey, then Anders, then Chris, then Brandon, and before he knows it the place is near empty. 

In a last-ditch attempt to find Danton, Sean heads back downstairs. The only one left is Jake. If anyone would know where Danton is, it’s one of his bandmates. 

“Hey, Jake is…” The look on Jake’s face says it all, he already knows who Sean is looking for and why. “I just wanna say I’m sorry.”

Jake’s smile is sympathetic. It’s relieving after what just happened with Coyle to know that not everyone in The Quitters hates him. 

“Look bro, I’m sure he’d be glad to talk it out and make up, but he really does need a day. The whole thing…”

“I know, I wanna make it up to him. This tour had me all...I just know how happy I felt performing today, and I didn’t want him to miss out. And I know how many times I’ve come close to missing out on what I got tonight and what people said to get me moving.”

A few moments pass of Jake looking at Sean like he’s examining him, holding an empty beer cup in one hand and a trash bag in the other. He puts the bag down and sits on the futon where merch was just an hour ago, patting the spot next to him for Sean.

“Sean, I know what you were trying to do. I’ve known you longer than Danton has, and I know you better than Charlie or the rest of the band. And I’m glad to know you.” 

Sean’s receiving some drastically different personal reviews tonight. 

“You just...you have to understand not everyone is living the same life as you. I’ve gotten at least two threatening emails every day since we were put on the Spring Fling lineup.”

That sentence isn’t what Sean expected. He knew playing the festival was a difficult decision, but didn’t realize the extent of it.

Jake continues without waiting for comment. “I’ve also been told that no good band will ever play this venue again if I keep associating with Danton, and I know he’s received much worse. There’s a reason he doesn’t have social media, and it’s not because he’s secretly an old man scared of technology.”

Pausing to consider, Jake adds “Well, okay, that’s a part of it.” Both of them let out nervous laughs. 

“It’s not really my story to tell, but I will say this is a lot bigger than just a bad breakup. We’re making this decision together to decide what’s best for everyone’s health…”

Sean continues to shut up and listen, figuring maybe his input isn’t always needed. 

“Besides, the biggest advocate for staying in the lineup is Danton. It’s the rest of us who want to pull out. Because I’d rather play with my bandmates happy and healthy in a basement the rest of my life than play with them miserable at Coachella. It’s only fun if I’m doing it with my friends, and if my friends want to do it.”

The past few days have been exhausting for Sean. On the drive home, there are two recent memories he can’t seem to stop playing in his head. One is John telling him that Jawbreaker didn’t teach him how to change a tire, but his dad did, and that’s what actually saved his life. Or maybe it was that he taught him how to ride a bike. 

The second memory on repeat is Danton flinching when Coyle hit the van. 

He has a lot to fix.

\---

It’s going to take more than a cold hamburger and medium fries to apologize to Danton, but Sean figures it’s a start. He gives a mental thank you to Jack with a drop off spot near Danton’s place, who didn’t pick up his McDonald’s UberEATS order right before Sean scheduled in a break.

Sean understands if Danton doesn’t even answer the door, but he figures he needs to try, and Danton’s car is parked outside. Three knocks on the door cause the sound of footsteps to come inside the house, locks coming undone. The door cracks open with the chain lock still intact. 

“Delivery?” Sean holds up the McDonald’s bag so Danton can see through the small opening. 

By some miracle, Danton undoes the chain lock and opens the door all the way. Sean knows he hasn’t won him over yet. Danton stays quiet and still in the doorway, holding himself in place. 

“Danny, I’m sorry.” There’s no gimmick or plan like he had the previous night, and Sean stares at Danton while Danton avoids eye contact. “I should have never- I have to stop projecting my insecurities onto other people.” 

That’s a line Sean had to spend the night thinking about to realize, a conclusion he came to from Noel telling him they “care about him more as a friend than as a singer” or Jake saying music is “only fun if he’s doing it with his friends.” If this is about connections, community, and Sean trying to help himself and others, he has to start with the people who are still going to be around when the show is over. 

Because the thought of losing Danton, or his bandmates, or Jake, Brandon, any of the people he considered his friends, scares him a lot more than the idea of playing bars for the rest of his life. 

Danton speaks up. “Yeah, you kinda do.” 

“It wasn’t my place to decide what’s best for you. I just…”

“I know.” 

That’s enough for Danton to let him in.

The apartment is livelier than the last time Sean was here. There’s a plant on the windowsill and a new pair of running shoes thrown in the corner. A few cheap movie cases are piled on the floor next to the futon and Sean wonders if they were recommended by Brandon. 

Danton takes a seat on the floor across from him instead of sitting on the bed next to Sean like last time and pulls the McDonald’s bag closer. A painful silence sits between them that Sean hasn’t experienced since interviewing Danton. He hopes the food is still warm.

“I’m not mad,” begins Danton. He inspects the burger like a foreign object. 

“You should be,” Sean responds quickly.

“I’m not. I know you were just trying to get me to do what you thought would make me happy.” After staring at his food for so long, Danton beings to take small bites between sentences. “But what makes me happy, what I consider success- it looks different for each of us.” 

It’s a fair point, and Sean thinks, for once, about the best way to respond when Danton breaks the silence for him. Sean realizes he’s been doing a lot of listening these days. And he still has a lot more to do. 

“I’ve always liked how passionate you are. When I first saw you play and you, um, you went into the crowd, I could tell you wanted it to be just as special for everyone else as it was for you. That’s not easy to find these days.” 

Another wave of guilt washes over Sean that he’s actually getting complimented right now when Danton should be cursing him out. He should be more upset than Coyle was, and he can’t help but hear Coyle saying Sean was no different than Danton’s ex in his head. 

Now Danton is waiting, and this time it’s up to Sean to come up with the words. All he can do is shrug. 

“When I first saw _you_, well, I thought you were kind of mysterious. But you’re more upfront than people realize, including me. There’s no ulterior motives, you just wanna do your part and return kindness to the people around you, and it’s…I think the industry would be a lot more pleasant if they returned to those basics, if they remembered what they’re here for in the first place. Hell, I needed that yesterday. But you don’t _have_ to remember, it’s what you live by, and I wanna be around that all the time.” 

Leaning his head back, unable to look at Danton, Sean adds on “I think I was worried that you were compromising yourself, but that’s…it’s not my place to decide. And if I had been you know, a little more kind, took a page from your book, I’d have respected that more at the time.” 

“I don’t think you realize the effect you have on people, sometimes.” 

Danton isn’t, and has never been, loud or expressive the way Sean is when he speaks. His voice is a low octave, hands by his side and eyes cast down. But the understanding he has of himself, of the world around him, makes his words simple and honest with no double meanings. It’s no wonder he gets along with Brandon, Sean thinks, with the ability they both have to be straightforward and rational in their emotions. 

“You’re like this source of light, and…you make the people around you a little bit better and braver, you don’t even know. You want everyone to feel loved the way you do, and succeed, but the way they do that can be differently than you. That doesn’t mean you’re failing.”

The conversation is uncomfortable to Sean. He respects Danton’s opinion maybe more than anyone else’s right now, respects his knack for being tactful and candid, but it doesn’t keep Sean from squirming in his seat. Still, it’s necessary. 

“You’re right, I uh…could probably be more of a friend and less of a captain or career counsellor. Or just trust a little more, I guess.” Sean scratches his arm and looks to the floor. “It’s like, I’d do anything for someone I love, but I should probably ask what they want first.” 

Danton studies his food on his lap with his hands folded in front of it, avoiding eye contact. Something tells Sean he’s not used to working out a problem like this. Or that he’s used to it going badly. Often, Sean is prone to being defensive in arguments, that leadership personality turning into plain stubbornness. With Danton, the instinct rarely kicks in because he never feels like he’s being attacked.

“I just didn’t want you to feel you won’t have people backing you up when you need, but I wasn’t exactly supportive in doing that,” adds Sean. The conversation’s raw nature has left them both exhausted.

“I get so worried, because you deserve it all, and I can’t give you that.” Crumpling the burger wrapper, Danton sighs and Sean can almost feel the weight come off his chest at the admission of insecurity.

“You are everything.” Sean’s never been so sure of something he’s said. 

That gets Danton to look up.

“Sean, when you…” Danton tries again. “Did my ex tell you anything?”

It’s hard for Sean to tell if Danton is scared, angry, sad, or all of the above. He’s clearly mastered the art of masking his tone in discussions like this.

“He didn’t say shit, I’ve never met the guy, I just...you know, I pieced it together.” Sean leaves out what he has and hasn’t heard. 

“You shouldn’t have brought him up.” It’s the most steady and confident Danton’s sounded today, and Sean wonders if he practiced this in the mirror or if he’s had this conversation before. “That’s a whole story you don’t know, and I'm...I'm not…”

Danton loses the conviction from just a moment ago, and Sean steps in. “I don’t ever have to know; you don’t have to tell me. It’s not my business. It shouldn’t have taken me so long to realize that if I want a fucking community I can walk a mile in someone’s shoes without, I don’t know, uh-“

“Stealing their shoes?” Danton suggests with amusement.

“Yeah, that. Like Jake told me not everyone lives like I do, and I think I need to get that better without having it spelled out.”

The tension has evaporated. Danton reaches for the drink Sean has given him and the straw, rolling the wrapper into a tiny ball before flicking it at Sean. He doesn’t try dodging it.

A minute passes before Danton gets out his last thoughts. “What I’m trying to do, I think, is just figure out what I want in the first place. What it means to live just for me again.”

“Well, why don’t you tell me what you’ve got on yourself so far? The full Danton Heinen field notes.” Sean leans forward with his chin on his hands, purposefully exaggerating the motions to get Danton to laugh. It works like a charm.

“Well, I’m not good at fixing leaks in the sink, but my dad wasn’t a good handyman either so it’s probably genetic.” There’s a pause as Danton gathers himself, a little shy from being put on the spot. “I like suspense that there’s some control of, I think that’s why I like sports but hate horror movies; I’m more into comedies. At concerts, I close my eyes. I miss the ocean. I’m good at ping pong. I can cook.”

“Keep going,” prompts Sean.

Danton furrows his eyebrows like he’s racking his brain for information about himself. 

“I'm pretty into this boy sitting next to me?” Nervous laughter escapes Danton, and Sean gets flustered fast.

With the air cleared, they go back and forth exchanging fun facts about themselves, frequently sidetracked by stories. The conversation transforms into picture day disasters, the Canadian border, and eventually landing on learning to cook when you don’t have money. Sean learns that Danton is German, and his grandfather taught him how to make a traditional stew when he was fifteen.

“Come on, I'll show you, I figured out how to make it cheap and easy. Then you can eat something that isn't McDonald’s when you recreate it later,” instructs Danton. Sean is pretty into Danton being comfortable around him to talk like this again. “My grandpa always said it was a necessary survival skill. Like changing a light bulb.” 

“My father said the same thing before he had me memorize the number for pizza,” Sean teases.

“I can always give the other portion of this to Noel if you’d rather have Bagel Bites.” The playful threat is said behind a withheld smile.

Sean thinks that if Danton wants to do that, he’d be in his right, considering Sean is minimal help during the cooking. Instead, he narrates everything Danton does with a fake British accent like they’re on a reality competition show. Danton doesn’t seem to mind, if the fake narrations he does for the “camera” that include made up story lines with fictional contestants are any indicator. 

With a spoon full of the just finished stew, Danton turns to him. “What do you think, Judge Kuraly?” 

Still in character, Sean puts a hand on his hip. “Do you wanna tell me about this recipe first?” 

The serious look and even tone from Sean cause Danton to laugh while shaking his head. “My Grandpa didn’t wanna cook anymore so he made me learn this?”

“Fair enough.” Sean tastes the stew, leaning over with Danton still holding the spoon. He raises his arms above his head and shouts, “We got ourselves a winner!”

They did end up with enough for Sean to bring some back home for Noel. Danton only teases Sean a little about how he can now show off his microwave skills with the leftovers.

There’s only one Tupperware container in the apartment which Sean is pretty certain came from a takeout place, but Danton says he trusts Sean to give it back and that he’ll see Sean soon anyway. That sentiment isn’t lost as they stand in the doorway, Sean with food in his hand unable to look away from Danton and his too-big T-shirt. Danton’s been gaining a healthy amount. He looks alive.

They can’t put off Sean leaving much longer. 

Danton steps forward and leans up to kiss him. Sean’s still in a daze when he hears Danton say, “Don't be a stranger, yeah?” 

\---

Normalcy’s been absent from Sean’s life as of late. He’s not complaining that more of his time is being spent playing his music instead of driving drunks around Columbus, but sometimes he could use the comforts of home after adventuring. 

So, Sean’s thankful to watch _ 21 Jump Street_ with Noel at one in the morning in celebration of the end of Noel’s finals week and talk over half the movie. __

_ _ “I’m telling you, look it up if you don’t believe me, Russians love _Ice Age.”__ _

_ _Sean contributes to a fifteen-minute argument sparked by Noel looking up a list of other movies released in 2012 and questioning the amount of _Ice Age_ movies made._ _

_ _ “Is that the only animated movie they play there?” Noel exaggerates their words in disbelief. _ _

_ _“They’re not _ that _ bad,” Sean tries, but Noel only narrows their eyes. He tries again. “Alright, fine, we’re gonna use the advance for our next record to buy a minivan with TVs in the headrests and watch all the _Ice Age_ movies while on tour. Then we’ll try to figure out why the country of Russia loves it so much and John can live out his days as a soccer mom.” _ _

_ _Cracking a smile, Noel grabs a handful of popcorn from a bowl resting between the two of them and takes a swig of their beer. _ _

_ _“We could use a minivan. You know Chris is trying to get a nationwide tour booked for us, right?”_ _

_ _ It’s Sean’s turn to get sarcastic. “No, Chris is going to keep it a secret from me and just stuff me in the trunk without notice when it’s time for us to go on tour.”_ _

_ _ “Fuck off!” Exclaims Noel, tossing a few popcorn kernels at Sean. _ _

_ _ A few seconds pass with only the noise of laughter as they turn their attention back to the movie. The silence doesn’t last long. It never does with Sean. _ _

_ _ “We’re going to get some really good holiday cards out of touring. John is definitely going to force us to take a photo on the Golden Gate bridge and scold Charlie for hard styling in it.” _ _

_ _ The accurate statement from Sean sends Noel into a fit of laughter. “We’re gonna lose Charlie three dates in because he’ll walk into the wrong van and not notice.” _ _

_ _ They get into theorizing the dramas of tour and the antics at various landmarks and roadside attractions around America. But the longer they talk about the tour, the less the elephant in the room can be ignored. Memories of Kentucky sit between them and refuse to be obscured by jokes and daydreams. _ _

_ _Noel isn’t one to dance around a subject. “Promise me something, alright?”_ _

_ _Sean knows what’s coming. “Yeah, anything.” _ _

_ _“I need you to remember you’re only performing for an hour every night. You don’t have to perform for us.”_ _

_ _The unexpected sincerity in Noel’s words makes Sean want to crack a joke, but he’s coming up empty handed. “I know.” _ _

_ _“We wanna hear you complain. That’s what we’re here for. You don’t gotta put it in a song or some shit before you tell us how something sucks. You hear _ me _ complain multiple times a day, so I can take it.” The meaning behind the words are heavy, but they’re said in a way that’s easy to swallow. An art form Noel has mastered. _ _

_ _The message that Sean needs to be honest with himself and everyone around him, and not obscure what he’s thinking with some deeper mission, has rung loud and clear the past few days. There’s something in the use of performing that stands out, and something bigger about taking care of himself, but it runs a little deeper than Sean can really think about right now. _ _

_ _Instead, he turns his attention back to watching the movie with one of his best friends._ _

_\----_

__  


_ _ “We’re gonna play.”_ _

_ _ Danton’s low voice fills the car as Sean talked to him on speaker. Sean’s work day ended twenty minutes ago, and he has a solid twenty minutes before he arrives at Chris’ place to talk touring plans. _ _

_ _These days, any spare minutes Sean has, he spends on Danton. _ _

_ _ This is the first time Danton’s brought up Spring Fling Festival since they fought. Sean takes a moment to choose his words carefully. “Positive? I really don’t want you to think it’s like, life or death…I mean, it’s a good opportunity, but you guys are a solid band no matter where you play. If you gotta miss it…” _ _

_ _ “I’m sure. _We’re_ sure.” It’s hard to tell over the phone, but Sean thinks he hears a hint of amusement in Danton’s voice. “We lost enough chances because of this mess; I don’t want to lose another.”_ _

_ _ The memory of Jake telling Sean in an empty, littered basement that Danton is the member of The Quitters most in favor of playing the fest surfaces. Despite Jake talking about the effects the situation had on all of them, Sean knows the main reason the other four questioned playing was to protect Danton. _ _

_ _There must be good reason to go for it. Good reason and a safety plan. _ _

_ _“I hope you’re prepared for me to wear a shirt with ‘Danton’s Biggest Fan’ on the front. I’ll stand right against the barrier.” Sean keeps the tone light. “I’m gonna scream your name every time the music stops.” _ _

_ _“I’ll get Brandon to kick you out. I’ll make him lift you over his shoulder in front of everyone,” Danton gets the words out between laughter. _ _

_ _“You would treat your biggest fan like that?” False shock tints Sean’s words. _ _

_ _Quickly, Danton replies. “Absolutely. I’ll tell everyone Yes, Hard Feelings sucks.”_ _

_ _“Wait until I tell everyone on Twitter about this.” _ _

_ _The car ride is too short for Sean, who circles the block twice to avoid hanging up. Saying goodbye to Danton is never easy. Facing the nerves of meeting Chris to talk about such a big subject doesn’t help. _ _

_ _Borrasca Records is run out of Chris’ fixed up basement, complete with light recording equipment for demos and a garage for storage. Posters of various tours from artists he’s signed or supported line the walls. The important ones are framed, while the rest hang with tape. Most of the stuff stays stored in the garage, but hot items like recent records to send out or pre-ordered shirts surround a futon in the back of the basement where it’s easy to sit, sort, and package for mailing. You couldn’t walk two steps without running into some kind of tape, scissors, or cardboard. _ _

_ _Something about the basement always makes Sean feel like he’s in the right place, doing the right thing._ _

_ _Chris leaves the back door open for Sean to let himself in as he does every planned meeting. The door can’t open more than halfway without running into boxes, but Sean navigates through the clutter in record time. _ _

_ _“I didn’t come here to get lectured by _you_.”_ _

_ _It’s not Chris’ voice echoing from down the hallway, originating from his sad excuse for an office at the very end. Sean stops dead in his tracks, taking a few steps back to hide just around the corner from the length of the hallway and eavesdrop. _ _

_ _“It’s not-I’m not attacking you. We want the same thing here.” Chris uses his business voice, but it doesn’t sound like a business argument. Sean peaks his head around the corner, making out two figures. One looks like Chris at his desk while the other man paces around the limited unoccupied space in the office room. _ _

_ _“Do we?” The tone borders on aggression, familiarity manifesting to Sean. “I’m trying to look out for his safety. You want a revenge tour.”_ _

_ _It’s Charlie Coyle, the singer of The Quitters. Danton’s bandmate who yelled at Sean the other day. It has to be. _ _

_ _“I don’t think those ideas are separate. And it’s not just about him. The longer you let a guy like that do whatever he wants on stage the more people end up like Danton-”_ _

_ _Coyle cuts him off. “You think we’re letting him do what he wants? Take a look at the shit I get in messages. Get half the threats I do, then you can act holier than thou to me.” _ _

_ _It isn’t news to Sean that there’s tension between Coyle and Chris, but no one’s ever bothered to tell him why. Chris still frequents The Quitters shows and speaks highly of them, but he never sticks around to talk to them like he does other bands. _ _

_ _Several seconds of silence pass where Sean stands as still as he can. He notices that the hot item of the month is the Yes, Hard Feelings record, hundreds of replicas of his band’s art looking back at him. The cover of all his friends in his favorite place, Danton in the corner looking away, is on display_ _

_ _“You saw the same thing I did that night,” Chris begins in a voice quieter than before. “That kid was gonna die if we didn’t step in.” _ _

_ _Charlie’s response is to walk away. Sean scrambles to the futon as quietly as possible while putting headphones in, trying to appear as if he didn’t hear anything. He’s not quick enough. _ _

_ _Halfway on the couch with one earbud in and the other dangling on the side, not even plugged into anything, Sean pretends to look uninterested as Charlie walks past him. Charlie still shoots him a glare before slamming the door next to Sean shut. _ _

_ _The commotion from Charlie covers up the sounds of Chris trailing down the hall behind him. Sean doesn’t notice Chris until he’s standing over him. _ _

_ _“You heard that?” Chris sounds resigned rather than fearful._ _

_ _No point in lying, Sean figures. “Enough.” _ _

_ _It reminds him of waiting outside the principal's office after starting a food fight in freshman year. Chris takes a seat next to him in the futon, and Sean adjusts himself and sits more naturally._ _

_ _“You…” Chris stares at the shelves full of records like the words can be found there. “You really like that kid from Charlie’s band, right? The blonde one?”_ _

_ _Omitting Danton’s name is an odd move to Sean, considering he heard Chris say it a few minutes ago. “Probably a bit too much for my own good.” _ _

_ _ “Alright. I’m gonna tell you all this because you care about him. I really shouldn’t, but I trust you.” _ _

_ _Sean knows what’s coming. Unspoken history haunts Danton like a poltergeist he has a truce with, and it was only a matter of time before Sean got too close not to notice._ _

_ _“When I met Danton, I was playing in a band with Charlie-that is, Coyle, not your Charlie- called Joanna of the Arcade. You’ve probably heard of us, even though we broke up before you were going to shows. We gained steam faster than most bands and crashed faster than most bands too.” _ _

_ _Of course Sean’s heard of them. He already knew Chris was in that band, it’s part of his legacy, but not that Charlie was in it with him. Everyone alternative kid in Columbus knows Joanna of the Arcade but that’s the extent of their fame nowadays. Could have ended up like Shoddy Workmanship if they didn’t break up prematurely._ _

_ _ Now, they’re only played as cover songs in new acts’ sets at Warriors Arena shows._ _

_ _“When we were still together, we played with Meet Your Quota a lot, back when Danton was still their bassist. Kid was like, 19, couldn’t even drink yet. Had a fake ID to play shows with them.” Chris has a certain fondness in his words. _ _

_ _“Meet Your Quota was from Cincinnati, and they became our go to band whenever we needed to play with someone down there. They had good pull and got along with us fine, but...shit got a little weird.”_ _

_ _“Doesn’t it always,” interjects Sean. It gets a smile out of Chris. _ _

_ _But that smile is quickly exchanged for a sigh. “We thought they always kinda had a weird dynamic, figured maybe they met Danton because he was someone’s kid brother who was great at the bass. Except he wasn’t; he was Ethan’s, their singer, barely legal boyfriend. And-...I’m not a fucking psychologist, I don’t know if all 23-year-olds dating 19-year-olds are fucked. I was only 21 myself. So, I minded my own business.” _ _

_ _The details add context to information Sean already had, gives context to the argument between Chris and Coyle. _ _

_ _“We minded our own business, and that was the problem.” Chris breaks eye contact as shame becomes visible in his movements. “‘Cause we kept minding our own business. Even when Ethan called him easy on stage, or when we realized he wouldn’t let Danton talk to us anymore unless Ethan was also there, or when Ethan would ask if anyone in the headlining acts would wanna sleep with Danton. This bullshit kept going on for a year or so, everyone kept making excuses for the way he acted, and we got to head home to Columbus and pretend everything was fine._ _

_ _“Until we played a Columbus show when they were in the middle of a two-week tour, first time they’d come up here. Nothing big, just down at the Space Bar, but labels were going to be there.” _ _

_ _Sean’s smart enough to know that whatever is coming isn’t going to be easy to hear. The guilt is contagious at this point. _ _

_ _“It was kind of a shitshow of a night all around, promoters were difficult, and we all started late. Danton’s pedals messed up right around a song where he had a solo; it just ended up silent except for the drums for like, thirty seconds. Noticeable mishap.”_ _

_ _He can’t even bring himself to look in Chris’ direction._ _

_ _“I don’t even know if the label reps were around during their set, or if they actually showed up in the first place. But Ethan was convinced that fucking Warner was there or something and because of Danton they’d be eating ramen the rest of their lives. Just blew up at him during load out, saying he’d push him into oncoming traffic if it meant they’d get signed. I still remember his exact quote._ _

_ _“Worst part is, I mean, that guy’s an idiot, but Danton hung onto his every word like it was gospel. ‘Cause he was all he knew and had, you know? Ended up hysterical while the rest of his bandmates left him outside, and I mean, Christ, he was only a kid, really. Didn’t have family from what I know. Charlie and I were out there having a smoke and tried to calm him down but…”_ _

_ _The image in Sean’s head of Danton on stage at 19 goes from endearing to terrifying. Interlocking with the memory of him going quiet while Sean yelled, he considers asking Chris to pause so he can be sick. _ _

_ _“Charlie handled a lot of it from there. We had to get him an ambulance, ‘cause we were really scared what would happen if we kept minding our own business. His band continued the tour without him, got a fill-in who eventually became the permanent guy they got now. Charlie helped him escape to Columbus and get out of the relationship when he was discharged. It was…”_ _

_ _Chris doesn’t end that sentence, but Sean already knows the end. He asks his own questions. “Does that have to do with why you and Charlie don’t get along anymore?” _ _

_ _Visible discomfort decorates Chris. He shifts in his seat. _ _

_ _“He’s still important to me. But the whole thing made other problems harder to ignore, we had different views on the music industry and how to handle these kinds of things. I wasn’t always tactful; he was always stubborn. It went downhill from there.” _ _

_ _Steadiness in Chris’ voice brings out thoughtfulness. “Like I said, he’s one of the best guys I’ve ever met. All of this was two or so years ago, and I didn’t really hear from him or Danton before they had this band.” _ _

_ _Sean is left processing the thought before Chris speaks up again. _ _

_ _“I think it made Charlie question why he was doing this, but for me, well. The reason why I still do this was _because_ of people like Charlie who care and make it worth it.” _ _

_ _ That’s a conclusion Sean has also come to recently. _ _

_ _They shift gears to booking tours, and Sean thinks less about kids he never met and more about making Jake or Brandon or Anders proud. Making Coyle trust him a little more._ _

_ _ But that night, he thinks only of Danton at 19, too scared to speak._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS: 
> 
> 1\. Drug warning for the scene that starts with "Music has always been..." and "they make it to the third day of tour...", it has mentions of Sean misusing drugs to deal with stress, though not actually having a full addiction problem. If you choose to skip those scenes, here's the plot points that you need to know to read the rest: Sean's band, Danton's band, and Danton's ex's band all get put on the same festival, Sean and his bandmates have a long talk about not overworking 
> 
> 2\. Abuse warning, right about the line that starts with "Jake's smile is sympathetic" in which they talk about receiving harassing emails and death threats from an ex-boyfriend. Again this comes up when Chris, later in the chapter, starts a story with "alright, i'm going to tell you this" which includes descriptions of past emotional and sexual abuse in a fashion that condemns it as well as suicidal tendencies. The plot points missed in these are easy to piece together from what happens right before and the warnings here, so you won't miss much by skipping over it. 
> 
> Thanks for reading


	3. What a way to start anew, to shed your skin and find the old you

Sean’s spent the past few weeks learning the quickest routes to Danton’s apartment. What potholes that line the streets to avoid, where he has the best shot of getting parking. At this point, he comes over three times a week and Danton no longer looks through the peephole when Sean knocks. 

The month comes and goes with more practices than shows for Yes, Hard Feelings as they finalize a tour and book a few festivals. Sean drives late for Uber again, writing down lyrics in his notes app along the way. There’s still plenty of time in between work and practices to goof off and watch _Survivor_ with Anders and Charlie, but it’s Danton that he drops everything for. Danton’s been busy as of late with The Quitters playing more local shows, his own job, and beginning to write for their first full length. Which, for Sean, means he’s gotta make himself fit into Danton’s world. 

“Got a name for it yet?” Asked Sean a week ago when he and Danton found time to get dinner. Danton had just finished up a writing session with The Quitters and Sean had waited to take his break from driving until Danton could come. 

“Everything You Forgot to Remember.” The answer from Danton had been muffled by a mouthful of eggs. “Unless we think of something cooler; we’re a pretty indecisive band.” 

“Is the first song going to be called Where I Put My Keys?” 

Danton had rolled his eyes at the joke as Sean proudly grinned. “You’re such a dad sometimes. Lucky for you, I am too.” 

Today, Sean’s been invited over to hear some of the demos, and damn if he was going to pass that up. He heads over shortly after Danton gets home from his 9-5 job with no hesitancy knocking on the door like he might have had just a month ago. 

“It’s not that good. I recorded it on my phone, you can barely hear it,” greets Danton, insecurity already showing.

“No way. This is going to be the best thing I ever heard. Album of the year, already decided,” Sean counters as he makes his way inside. Not that the apartment has much of an “inside” to venture into. 

They have a routine now, made over the past few weeks, of lying on the floor in front of the futon with a few pillows underneath them. Like a middle school sleepover. Today is no different; Sean settles into his usual spot. 

Danton takes a seat in the space next to Sean and places his phone between them, taking a minute to get the song set up. He looks away from Sean when the song starts, opting to stare at the ceiling instead. Sean gets it. Hearing your own work is weird. He steals a few glances at Danton during the first thirty seconds, almost too distracted by him to focus on what he’s hearing.

The song could work great as a first single. At least, Sean would buy the album based off of it, and that’s not just because he’s in love with the bass player. 

Chemistry is evident between the driving bass riff and a harmonizing lead guitar. It’s fast, but the kind of fast that wraps you up completely instead of making you go against it. Sean can so easily imagine hearing this playing in the basement of Warriors Arena as he sips his beer in the back. Easy to imagine people moving their feet to it, screaming the lyrics to their friends. 

“I think I’d be okay if that song was the only thing I listened to for the rest of my life,” blurts out Sean when the song ends. 

Danton’s face goes pink. “Thank you. I mean, I know my bandmates are talented, that’s no question; I’m lucky to play with them. And obviously we think it’s done, writing wise, but...it’s hard to know when you’ve been working on a song for three days straight. You just want it over with already.”

There are times when Danton’s randomly candid, times Sean sees more and more as he grows closer with him, gets to see him not only through his own eyes but his friends’. It’s these moments Sean looks forward to more than anything else. When no one’s trying to put on a show. No ulterior motives. 

“How do you guys do your writing? Like, I think me and Noel and everyone just fight for three weeks straight until we save 13 songs out of it, and I love it, but I have a feeling you guys are a little more civil,” Sean asks, turning on his side to face Danton. 

The corners of Danton’s mouth turn up, recalling the fond memories still in the making.

“Well, with the first EP, it was just reworking songs Charlie already wrote just to get something out there. This is more collaborative, and…well, Charlie has these notebooks of lyrics, so we all took a large pack of highlighters and went through them. Matching which parts went together by colors. We pretended we were detectives trying to solve the crime of which one of us Charlie was going to kill.” 

“I don’t think I studied that hard in college.” Impressed, Sean nods approvingly. 

“That makes two of us,” Danton smiles and tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. “After, or, uh, during, me and Karolyn keep our instruments out and we’ll find a few lines we like and start playing back and forth, and we know we struck gold when Matt begins to tap out a beat. Then Jake joins in and we start polishing it off.” 

“I guess we kinda do that, I have my guitar in my car always, I don’t know, in case I gotta run away or something. Sometimes after a really good show me and Charlie will sit in the back and just play back and forth.” 

Danton perks up at the response. “Do you have your guitar now?” 

“Yeah, do you want me to…?”

“Go grab it! I don’t think I ever played with you before.” 

At no point did it ever occur to Sean that Danton would want to play with him. Sean doesn’t even consider himself that good at guitar. Of course, he’s not turning down doing, well, anything with Danton. 

Upon returning, Sean sees Danton sitting cross legged in his usual spot with his bass across his lap. The bass is not the cheapest instrument Sean has ever seen; hell, he’s played worse. It’s a blue Ibanez Talman bass with only a few bumps and bruises. There’s no amps around, so they’ll have to work with what they have on hand. 

“Your usual weapon of choice?” Sean asks, gesturing loosely to the bass in Danton’s hands. 

The question catches Danton off guard. “Sort of, I had a really cheap one before, just, you know, total junk. Still have it somewhere. It’s the first one I bought because my ex wanted me to learn so I could play in his band and I’d just sit around all day listening to the Third Eye Blind self-titled until I knew enough. Couldn’t play shows with it because, I mean, it kinda looked like it would disintegrate at any moment, so I saved up for this.” 

Sean feels restless, like he asked something he shouldn’t have, even though Danton doesn’t seem upset. “First time I saw John play bass he played the _Charlie Brown_ theme song. It’s like, his party trick.”

The story gets Danton to shift with enthusiasm. 

“No way, I think I can, maybe…”

Pulling the music up on his phone, Danton and Sean spend the next five minutes trying to sound the notes out before they stumble upon success. They’re maybe a little too loud when he does get the riff down, Sean hollering and clapping. Hopefully the neighbors don’t mind that or the attempt to to duet a Lawrence Arms song together. 

But Danton’s grinning, genuine and careless, eyes lit up. They’re singing along to their off-tempo instrumentals. Danton’s mixing up words and lines in the songs, confusing himself and putting Sean in a fit of laughter each time until Danton starts messing up on purpose just to make Sean smile. Sean thinks it’s worth the possible noise complaint. Worth getting a ticket over or arrested or put to death. 

Noel always says Sean feels too much. Maybe they have a point. 

“You ever write lyrics?” Sean asks once they wrap up the unplugged instrumental duets.

“Yeah, sometimes. Mostly just a verse or two.” There’s no hesitation from Danton as he takes the bass off his shoulder. 

“Really? Ever think about using it in one of your songs or does Coyle got that trademarked?” 

This time, Danton thinks on it a little longer. “I think I like keeping them to myself, like a snapshot of things or a diary. I started writing when I was in Cincinnati, and it was really shitty sad songs, you know, that was what was happening. But then the other day here, I wrote about driving an hour out to go to Dairy Queen with Karolyn, and it’s the kind of thing I’m gonna want to remember and hear so I put it into a song. But it’s just for me.”

Before Sean can respond, Danton adds on “That’s why I like your stuff. Even when it’s sad, you have a good way of giving a full picture, like I’m there. I’ll learn whatever you did from what happened. And we should witness this because it’s going to matter.” 

Now, it’s Sean’s turn to get flustered. “I’m actually just whining and complaining.” 

“But who doesn’t need to whine and complain? You just say what everyone’s been wanting to say.” Danton looks directly at Sean when speaking, earnest to get the words across and not be dismissed by Sean’s insecurities. 

“I should do what you said about the songs you’ve been writing. Write some more happier shit.” That’s as close as Sean can get to accepting the compliment. He’s always wanted to be told he’s doing good, but at the same time he can’t get comfortable. He always has to tell himself he can be better. 

“That’s not really the spirit of rock, though. It’s not called Only the Good Live Really Long Lives.” 

Sean bursts out laughing and adds “American Genius.” 

“Avoiding Pressure.” 

A minute passes of Sean comfortably aware of the moment, consciously trying to remember every second so he can return to it later when a customer’s rude and he needs to remember that the world doesn’t actually suck. Finally, he formulates his own reply. 

“I think a few happy songs will come naturally if I keep hanging around you.”

It’s a bold statement, but Sean knows it was the right thing to say as soon as it leaves his mouth. There’s a shift in Danton’s face, eyes widened, mouth open a little, taking a moment to process what was said before leaning in to kiss Sean. 

That’s how the rest of the afternoon is spent. Sitting on Danton’s floor with Sean’s hand in Danton’s hair, kissing lazily between scarce conversation. It feels like sitting by the fire. It feels like coming home. 

Sean’s thankful he wasn’t a stranger. 

\-----

“Hey, give me a marker.” 

Anders passes Sean a green Sharpie from a bucket of supplies he keeps at Warriors Arena. Both boys hover over the banner as Sean draws an arrow between the words “Happy” and “Birthday” in the sign they bought from Party City and adds the word “Not.”

At the other end of the room,Jake and Brandon help decorate by kicking balloons at each other and pretending to play soccer. Noel’s going to love it, and today is all about them. 

This week, Noel finished their official name change process. Between that and an upcoming tour it only feels right to have a night celebrating them by letting them get shoved around in a push pit to their favorite band at Warriors. Sean called in a band that Noel’s friends with Rhetorical Heretical, to play, and the rest was easy. Except maybe getting the cake, which Charlie is almost certainly going to be late with.

Perhaps the biggest win for the party is Yes, Hard Feelings managing to get Chris to play a fifteen-minute acoustic set to open up Noel’s Not Birthday night. Convincing him was the hardest part of the whole ordeal, considering he hasn’t played music since he was in Joanna of the Arcade and usually responds to requests to play with a short email stating that he’s retired from performing. His usual cold response was no match for how annoying Charlie and Sean can get. 

“Come on, it’ll get Anders off your back about coming to a show,” Sean had pleaded with him when stopping by his office three weeks back.

“Yeah, which, what the fuck dude. His shows are dope you should wanna go to more,” Charlie added. 

They came to an agreement with a negotiated fifteen-minute set and not having the phrase “former member of Joanna of the Arcade” next to his name on the poster. He also made sure to say it was to show support for Noel and had nothing to do with “the annoying assholes” in his office. 

Whatever. It was totally due to Charlie and Sean too. 

People arrive earlier than normal that night with the incentive of the first warm Friday night of the season. Even Torey manages to clear his schedule to come, insisting he can’t miss Chris’ great comeback or else he wouldn’t be able to brag that he was there on Twitter. Arriving shortly after Torey are Matt and Danton and, yeah, maybe Sean’s been watching the door waiting for the two of them. 

“Explain to me why you can decorate your whole apartment for Noel’s made up birthday, but you just poured beer on me on stage for my _actual_ birthday,” Matt yells at Jake as soon as he enters the yard. 

Arms thrown in the air, Jake answers back loud enough for the neighbors to hear. “Because I like Noel, and you threw out my burrito the night before.” 

“That was sitting in the back of the van for two fucking weeks. I saved you from pneumonia or something!” 

“Come on, man, that was Jake’s science project. The band’s pet,” Danton chimes in, walking into the backyard sheepishly with his hands in his pockets. 

Danton would never be, nor want to be, the kind of person to demand the room’s attention. Unless you’re Sean, where everything else may as well disappear completely upon Danton’s entry. 

Their friends are catching on as of late. Not that Danton and Sean are exactly trying to be secretive, but they haven’t put a name to what’s between them yet. Their friends can draw their own conclusions by observing Danton embrace Sean in a hug that lasts a little too long after giving everyone else a much shorter greeting. Loud, comedic coughing comes from Jake and Brandon after several moments pass of Sean and Danton’s embrace. 

John shows up with Noel a half hour before Chris starts, covering Noel’s eyes as they walk into the birthday decorated backyard. The banner Anders and Sean worked so hard on is placed above the door to the basement, with tinsel wrapped around the staircase heading down. 

“Aw, you guys wanted to embarrass me,” Noel reacts after taking it all in. They’re not fooling anyone, not when they say it with the same grin a kid has on Christmas.

With Chris about to start his set and the basement almost full, Sean’s ready to chalk the cake up to a lost cause. Maybe Charlie’s run off with a hot baker instead. 

“Let’s see if I remember how to play this.” A visibly nervous Chris walks up to the mic in the center and mumbles into it, gingerly placing his hands along the fretboard. The guitar looks almost foreign to him, as if he hasn’t been practicing every night like Sean knows he has.

“Wait! Wait, Chris don’t play yet,” a frantic voice echoes from the top of the staircase. Sean doesn’t need to turn around to know that it’s Charlie. 

The room erupts into cheers as Charlie storms in with two large cakes, placing them down on the futon before picking one up and heading towards the front. Even people who don’t exactly know Noel or what the party is for are amused and excited about getting free food. 

“Would you like to do the honors?” Charlie asks Chris, smiling wide as he walks front and center and places the cake down in front of Noel. 

Charlie doesn’t have to clarify what he means as Chris’ eyes gleam with mischief and he begins singing Happy Birthday. Sean is certain Noel is going to kill Charlie. Maybe Chris, too, if they get their way. 

Everyone, strangers and friends alike, join in until Noel gives in and hugs Charlie towards the end of the song. 

Paper plates with cake get passed around while Chris sings his first two songs, helping him get over his nerves and hit a good stride as he plays some acoustic songs written right after his former band broke up and a Against Me! cover. By the last song, Chris even manages some banter while tuning his guitar. 

“Alright, so, I helped write this one, but I didn’t sing it…” There’s a pause as he adjusts one of the knobs. “If it sucks, well, there’s a reason why I wasn’t the singer of this band.”

The majority of the audience members are old enough to have gone to Joanna of the Arcade shows or have at least heard their songs played after their breakup. They all know Chris is making them one of the lucky few to have heard one of their songs performed by an original member several years after splitting. 

“This one’s called Tell Yourself It’s Everybody Else.” 

Chris gives the guitar a quick strum to make sure it’s tuned before beginning to pluck the opening riff. More than half the room has their phone out to record, this being by far the most popular and notable song the band had in its short lifespan. 

The first few notes are interrupted by a yell from the back.

“Hold on, hold up.”

This time, Sean has to look to identify the source of the yelling. It’s not frantic like Charlie’s, instead a calm declaration from Chris’ former bandmate, Coyle, as he walks to the front. 

The same Coyle who now sings in The Quitters, that threatened Sean’s life for being a dick to Danton, and the same one Sean saw arguing with Chris in his office. 

“Damn, Chris really can’t make it through a song without an objection,” Matt jokes a little too loudly in a room that just got very, very quiet. Sean wipes his palms on his jeans, feeling a lot more restless than before. 

“I didn’t think he was doing that bad,” replies Danton as Coyle steps over an amp and whispers something to Chris, smile on his face. The comment from Danton gets a few of them to giggle. Something about Coyle’s current bandmates messing around makes Sean feel less anxious. 

The two men on stage share a knowing look. Chris takes a few steps back to allow Coyle to use the microphone. 

“My birthday present to Noel is to spare everyone from hearing Chris trying to hit high notes,” is the only comment from Coyle the audience gets before they launch back into the most popular song him and Chris have ever written. 

Anyone who wasn’t recording before is pulling their phones out now. This is maybe the one and only time any of them will see Coyle and Chris perform this song together again. Chris takes over guitar duties as Coyle belts out the words without forgetting a single one, Chris walking next to Coyle to provide extra vocals on the chorus. More of the room than Sean expects sings along, but Sean mostly watches Danton mumble along to the words. 

A very different tone than what Sean saw in the office just a few weeks ago. Chris pulls Coyle in for a hug, and Sean is left remembering Chris saying that he still cares for him. 

“Aren’t you glad we made you play,” Sean teases Chris after he finishes packing up his equipment. 

With a look of approval, Chris settles on “You’re not half bad, I guess.” 

“Dad’s proud of you.” Brandon smiles at Sean and helps Chris carry the rest of the stuff to his car. 

The night continues when Sean convinces Danton to come into a push pit during the headlining act’s set. Danton tries to avoid it at first by telling Sean he’s “not sure if getting hit by teenagers for fun” is his scene, but Sean can tell by the amusement in Danton’s eyes that he would like to try.

At the end of the set, Sean looks at a Danton who is sweaty, hungry, but most importantly, unapologetically happy. 

“Thanks for helping me live out my middle school dreams of being in the punk version of _Footloose_,” Danton tells him in the backyard lit up with old Christmas lights and fireflies. 

“Are you telling me _that’s_ the 80s movie cast you wanted to be?” The teasing comment comes while walking to Sean’s car so he can drive Danton home. 

He doesn’t want to draw attention to it, but Sean’s pretty sure he spots Coyle and Chris hanging out in the corner of the yard over beers as they’re walking out. Danton does bring it up when they get to the car, stating “Looks like Charlie and Chris made nice.” 

“We pulled a total parent trap on them, and it only made Coyle hate me a little bit,” Sean laughs and pulls out of his parking spot. It’s warm, but not enough this late at night for the air conditioning, so Sean rolls down the window. Looking at the road instead of staring at Danton’s hair blowing in the wind is a difficult task. 

“He doesn’t hate you!” Danton’s only half serious as he answers Sean. Raising an eyebrow in response, Sean is met with an unamused look from Danton until he responds.

“He did for like, five seconds, but I deserved it. I was being a jerk.” 

A shade of pink crosses Danton’s face. “Yeah, a little. But a jerk who was right, obviously, I mean…we’re playing.” 

Sean tries to keep the mood casual as they ride down the quiet city streets. 

“You ready to play?” Asks Sean while fiddling with the radio, relaxed to make sure he doesn’t put pressure on Danton.

“I don’t think there’s any way to be ready. It’s the biggest opportunity we’ve probably had yet.” The answer subtly avoids the question Sean is asking, and both of them know. 

“Well, yeah, I’m never ready for any of our shows- “

“I’m anticipating you crashing the stage during our set.” 

“I’ll do it. I’ll be like the Kool-Aid Man. Go full Kanye West on you,” Sean says through stifled laughter, voice raised in a tone of fake warning that gets Danton giggling. “Don’t give me ideas.” 

There’s something much more natural about the tense subject than there was a few weeks ago. Maybe he has more of Danton’s trust. A few blocks from Danton’s shitty apartment, the answer to Sean’s ten-minute old question finally comes. 

“If I think about it too long…the uh, festival, I mean…I feel like I’m going to throw up.” Danton’s looking towards Sean when he answers, but he won’t meet Sean’s eyes. His hands are rubbing along the fabric of his jeans and he may be the most beautiful thing Sean has ever seen. “I just gotta get it over with.” 

“You shouldn’t-Don’t do this if you don’t think it’ll be good for you. I’ll fill in again, or, well, I’ll get John to do it, so you guys have someone who actually knows how to play bass, unlike me. But I can- “

“No, it’s…It’ll be good for me. Sometimes the right thing to do, for me, for everyone, isn’t the easy thing to do.” There’s a certainty to Danton’s voice, one that Sean hardly ever hears from him, that makes him realize Danton has thought long and hard about this. “Actually, doing the right thing kinda sucks most of the time. But it’s the only way things won’t suck down the road.” 

They pull into the driveway but neither make a move to leave. 

“You’re pretty cool, you know?” Sean’s words aren’t flattery; they’re honesty. He can’t stop repeating the words Danton just said in his head, thinking about just how brilliant he really is. 

“Thanks, you’re not half bad,” responds Danton, quietly but comfortably. 

Neither want to leave, but they can’t stay in the car smiling at each other forever. Sean knows that if Noel saw them, he’d never hear the end of it. 

“Do you…Do you want to come inside?”

Sean’s daydreamed about Danton saying that for a few months now, but it didn’t prepare him for the shock when it becomes reality. 

Fuck yeah, he wants to come inside. Sean doesn’t waste another second in that car.

\-----

It’s not even noon and Charlie is buzzed on the festival beers.

“John, what kind of setlist is this? I’m in a new tuning every song,” Charlie yells loud enough for everyone loading in to hear, head in Jake’s lap.

They’ve just finished loading onto their stage before soundcheck, figuring out how to set up with the help of Brandon. Some of their equipment’s borrowed from Warriors Arena and shared with The Quitters, with no show at Warriors tonight since everyone who’d possibly attend is here instead. Including Brandon and Anders helping on crew. 

Help much needed after Charlie decided bringing the equipment uphill was too much work, even though he only carried two guitars, and that he deserved a break to drink beer while everyone else is setting up. 

“You’re such a diva,” Sean rolls his eyes as he unwraps an extension cord. 

Looking over their shoulder from taking out the pedal boards, Noel adds on, “We should start calling him Mariah.” 

Charlie turns to Jake with an exaggerated pout. “Do you see this? They’re so mean to me.” 

Jake and the rest of The Quitters just finished their own soundcheck. One spent with Jake and Matt making faces at each other, Danton and Karolyn messing with Jake’s pedals whenever he got distracted. It’s endearing seeing them all in action. Danton wearing a Yes, Hard Feelings shirt on stage only sweetens the deal. 

They’re set to play first, two acts before Yes, Hard Feelings, on the same stage. 

“Maybe Jake will dedicate a song to _you_,” Brandon pokes him and smiles, referencing Charlie’s antics on their last tour towards Sean. 

In return, Charlie throws a crumpled piece of paper lightly at Brandon’s stomach. “Not fair, shut up.” 

Despite the early afternoon start time, a decent sized crowd is building up outside the stage when Sean peaks out just before The Quitters are set to start. Most of the audience is probably hearing them for the first time, but exposure is one of the biggest things about these fests. 

“I can’t believe Sean’s a groupie,” Noel comments loudly from a spot backstage, teasing as Sean stands right at the edge of the curtain for the best view. Sean flips them off, but it only seems to encourage the laughter. 

It’s totally worth the sarcastic comments to see the smile Danton gives to Sean when tuning his bass. 

Sean is right; the crowd for The Quitters is made up mostly of college kids bopping their heads along to the songs. They’re hypnotized by Jake jumping around the stage and even doing a backbend for one song, sitting on the edge of the stage during another. Sean’s favorite is Jake standing right behind Danton and singing in his ear, but he’s a little biased. 

With less than ten minutes left in their set, Coyle says thank you, where to buy merch, and some information about the new album coming soon before Danton walks up to the mic. Sean’s seen The Quitters play more than he can count in their short time as a band, and Danton barely ever looks at the crowd, let alone talks. 

By the way Coyle turns to him when he finishes his spiel, this was planned. 

“Hey, like Charlie said, thanks for coming out early and thanks to Spring Fling for having us.” The words from Danton are standard, but Sean is still in shock considering it’s usually Jake who does all the talking that isn’t Coyle. It’s strange to hear his low voice come from the speakers. 

After polite cheers die down, Danton continues. 

“We have two songs left, and this one…well, it’s not one of ours, but it’s written about me, so...” Danton shrugs before moving away from the mic and beginning to play. 

There’s no time for Sean to really process what was said before The Quitters launch into a song Sean has only heard once before. In a van, in Chicago, after someone cited it as the reason they didn’t trust Danton. The one by Meet Your Quota that Danton’s ex wrote just after Danton left the band. The same ex that would be playing this stage later today.

A few of Sean’s friends who had been watching most of the set a couple feet back join him against the curtain. It’s a well-rehearsed cover of the song, one they must have really planned. Everyone is too shocked to joke about it, even to say something to Charlie when Jake takes his shirt off to replicate a typical asshole in a band. 

This is the first time Sean’s even heard Danton sing, and it may not be the right time, but he’s caught up in how good he sounds. A coy smile in his voice as he sings the backing vocals to Charlie, harmonizing “I’m waiting for you to waste away/I’m waiting ‘til I can spit on your face.” 

Even better, Danton _laughs_ after singing these mean lines out, looking uncharacteristically carefree as he gets support from the rest of the band. It explains why Danton was M.I.A. for most of the load in part of the day, but it was worth it to see him stand up for himself like this. Only half the audience fully understands what just happened, a lot of them Meet Your Quota fans who came to see them later. Enough people know what’s happening that it’ll end up on Twitter later. 

The cover ends, their last song begins, and Sean stands in awe. He’s filled with pride more than anything else. 

The Quitters receive a round of applause as they hug center stage and wave to the audience, exiting the stage to their friends watching. Brandon is the first to wrap his arms around Danton.

“You didn’t tell me you were a badass, Danton Heinen!” Proclaims Brandon, everyone laughing at his unabashed praise. 

“Oh, sorry, I shouldn’t hug you before your boyfriend gets to.” 

Both Danton and Sean blush at that, especially because it isn’t meant how Noel and Charlie do when teasing; it’s genuine coming from Brandon. Neither dwell on it too long. They stop to turn and observe Jake and Coyle getting beer poured on them by Torey before facing each other again.

Sean is the one who goes in for the hug, but Danton is the one who kisses him in front of everyone.

Nose to nose, they can only see each other and Sean is lightly holding Danton by his waist. 

“Hey,” Sean tries, murmuring the greeting against Danton’s jaw. 

A light laugh escapes from Danton. “Hi?”

Something about Danton makes Sean remember every single reason he gets on stage and sings.

“I ever tell you that you’re, like, the coolest person I know?” And Sean means it. 

“I think you need to meet cooler people.” Danton is easily flustered, a little too humble, but all Sean hopes is that Danton realizes how much he means it. 

\---

It’s a blessing in disguise for Sean that Yes, Hard Feelings play at sunset because if the sun weren’ blinding him, he may faint at the sight of the crowd. 

Like with The Quitters, not everyone watching them knows who they are. Some probably don’t enjoy them. That’s how fests are. Still, the front row’s lined with people mouthing along to the songs and Sean can only look at them when Charlie sings because he’s worried he’ll mess up his lines otherwise. 

“We just want to take a moment to thank everyone- you guys for coming out and watching, Spring Fling for having us, all the bands on this fest,” John says the professional lines, an arrangement they’ve had as a band for a long time to keep Charlie and Sean from bantering too long and forgetting to thank everyone. 

“Wanna thank the stage crew, too...I know some of you know him, but Torey Krug is the unsung hero of the Ohio music scene. He does things besides making fun of me on Twitter.” 

The last part is said with a smile and a look towards the side of the stage where Torey is standing. Sean has just enough time to turn and look for himself before Brandon picks up Torey by his waist and throws him over his shoulder, carrying him out onto the stage. This is how Brandon dies. 

Brandon places Torey down right in front of John before running off the stage, getting high fives from Sean and Charlie along the way. At stage left, John and Torey hug and get polite cheers from the amused crowd. 

“Alright, this is our last one, thanks again. Sean sings this one and it goes out to Danton from The Quitters,” Charlie says before Sean is even aware of what he’s doing. Fucker probably got the idea from them teasing him about Jake earlier. 

Sean flips him off before launching into the song, but he isn’t as mad as he was last time. It’s hard to be mad when he can see Danton smiling and singing side stage. It occurs to Sean that Danton’s ex might have heard that. He tries not to dwell on it. 

“Hey! Still alive!” Charlie greets Brandon as they walk off stage to more friends and family than Sean can count.

There are many things that Sean is grateful for at once, a feeling of completeness inside of him that he worried so much about on tour. An answer to be found not only in the crowd but a 6’5 stage manager carrying a 5’8 part merch guy part influencer out on his back, on one of his best friends and bandmates using the mic to play wingman, and on Jake currently giving them all shots. 

They don’t stay backstage long, choosing to eat to avoid Meet Your Quota’s set.

It works well enough, Sean convincing Danton to try his first ever deep-fried Oreo and the two of them trying to convince Charlie Coyle that poutine is a good food. “Don’t worry, he eats vegetables boiled, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Danton reassures Sean after Charlie argues that he probably thinks the knobs on a stove are for decoration.

Food debating ends up in everyone shouting over each other playfully, the same way it does at a barbeque or a funeral when someone on Sean’s Irish side dies. It does feel a little bit like family the way everyone reacts to a good story or joke or comeback, yelling each other’s names when something’s funny. 

An eventual lull in the conversation causes Meet Your Quota’s set to be audible from where they’re sitting. Just in time for the band to do some talking of their own.

“I wanna take a moment to really show my appreciation for some special people in my life.” A voice Sean’s only heard through his earphones and in passing from shitty venue speakers echoes through the fest, but he doesn’t need to ask to know it’s Danton’s ex. If he wasn’t sure, the way Danton’s shoulders tense up would tell him.

He has the whole group's attention now. They listen against their best judgement.

“These songs are about a shitty time in my life or shitty people, ones who you never really get an apology from, or abandoned me at my lowest points because I wasn't what they wanted, and as much as I wanna say fuck that shit...it made me appreciate the good people in my life more.” 

“One of them is my boyfriend, Morgan...Morgan Douglas, can you come onto the stage?” 

Brandon’s the only one that actually turns to look, furrowing his brows before finally acknowledging something about the elephant in the room. “Wait, I know that kid. The boyfriend. He was a freshman at my school while I was a senior, I think. We played in band together for a hot second.” 

That’s what causes Danton to physically cringe. Brandon is 21, which means this kid that just got brought out on stage can’t be older than 18. Which, Sean realizes, if Danton’s ex was too old to be dating Danton at 19, he certainly is too old for whoever’s on stage with him. 

It’s like watching a train wreck. The guy on stage continues.

“I have enough experience with the bad and the ugly to know when someone’s good for me. And I know that you are good for me.” 

The pause lasts longer than it should and the crowd’s cheering gets way too loud for Sean’s comfort. He’s not sure what’s coming, but he has a feeling of what it might be, and it’s bad news. 

“Would you marry me?” 

Where Sean is, on the grass with his friends and his bandmates and his boyfriend, everything is uncharacteristically silent compared to the rest of the festival. Like the wind stopped blowing. 

“What a load of shit,” Karolyn speaks up, and Sean’s never been more thankful for her.

People in their group begin shuffling again, picking at their food. No one can bring themselves to say a single word. Danton’s the only one not to have moved since they heard the speech.

“Brandon, that guy...I mean, that _kid_.” 

His voice shakes and he doesn’t need to clarify for the rest of them to know what he means. The first person to react is Sean, who can’t find the words but holds Danton’s hand instead. Sean rubs circles on Danton’s palm with his thumb.

Coyle acts next. The protective instinct he has about Danton evident. “Danny, you know that’s not your fault. You can’t control the shitty things someone else does.” The words don’t erase the guilt Danton has written across his face, so Coyle tries again.

“Ethan isn’t your responsibility and he never w-”

The use of Danton’s ex’s name snaps Danton out of the trance. “No, he’s not, but maybe it’s my responsibility to warn people. Give them what I didn’t.” 

Sean doesn’t necessarily agree with that, the idea that Danton has to be a martyr for the rest, but he understands why Danton feels that way and that’s the hardest part. Especially after seeing the next victim. He attempts to back up Coyle. 

“Other people can speak up, too, you know. You’ve been through enough. I mean, fuck, it’s not like you’re exactly sweeping it under the rug. Earlier, you literally-”

“But that’s not enough. That kind of shit wasn’t enough when it was me as that kid up there. I wanna…”

All eyes are on Danton.

“I want to be the person I needed back then.”

Sean loves Danton and it’s no longer too soon to say. This is the kind of person Danton is, always has been, and Sean wants to be the support he needs now.

“Whatever you wanna do, and I mean this, I got your back. We all do. Whatever you need.”

Verbal agreement comes from around the circle of friends, offering to help any way they can. Sean can barely hear them when he’s so focused on the way Danton’s face has softened at Sean’s offer. 

“I got you.” Sean reinforces the words by squeezing Danton’s hand. 

“I got you, too.”

That night, on the long drive back made longer by how much Charlie has to stop to pee from the beers he drank, Sean shoots Danton a text to check in on him. He’s squashed in the back of the van between Noel spread out and several amps and figures he may as well do it now because he’s not falling asleep any time soon.

_“Your set rocked, I mean it. Please give me backstage passes when you make it big thx.” _ Sean keeps it stereotypical, Danton’s biggest hype man. Banter is the best way to end such an up and down day. A return to normalcy. 

_”You’ll always be my V.I.P.”_ Replies Danton, instantly and insanely sweet.

Sean screenshots the text and, to his surprise, falls asleep peacefully.

\-----

It’s not that Sean wants to drive when he’s off work, but he’s pretty sure Charlie’s going to kill them if he doesn’t take the wheel soon.

A week’s come and gone since Spring Fling fest and Chris has been quieter and more buried in his work than usual. Today, he breaks the silence by texting the band’s group chat asking who available to stop by his office for big news. John’s at work and Noel’s at an interview, leaving Sean at the whims of Charlie to drive him across Columbus and give him anxiety about wrecking his car. 

“What do you think Chris planned?” Anxiety laces Charlie’s sentences, excited in that golden retriever way he always gets. Always manages to get Sean excited, too, even now when he’s also worrying about Charlie getting a speeding ticket. 

“A funeral, if you keep driving like this.” 

It doesn’t faze Charlie at all. He continues to fiddle with the radio and not look at the road. “Sean, if you’re gonna be like my mom and constantly remind me how fast I’m going…” 

Sean thinks that maybe Charlie’s mom makes some good points and he should give her a call sometime soon, but he shuts up and tries to focus on his phone instead. 

Twitter is the greatest tool and worst enemy of a DIY musician. There’s been numerous times Sean’s connected with a great band or learned about a good spot they could play due to them being located outside of Columbus. At the same time, it’s like everywhere else on the Internet, where people can say whatever they want and think they’re free of consequences. Chris already gave Sean a lecture on remembering that his Internet presence is technically part of a brand after Sean called someone a moron for saying Scully is a bad character. 

Whatever. He was totally right about that. 

“Wanna place bets on how long I can go before I see someone say something stupid?” Sean asks Charlie. The rest of the band loves his dramatic readings of the stupid shit he sees online, needing a new outlet since he isn’t allowed to reply. 

Swerving his head too drastically, Charlie looks at him with glee. “Please, _please_ check on that guy who said all of us making fun of SNL on stage was a violent gang mentality. Please, Sean. I need to feel better about my life.” 

“Okay, okay, I’ll check on him. Wouldn’t want to deprive his biggest fan.” Sean searches through his feed in hopes to find the man in question. 

The first few tweets are show announcements and _ The Office _ memes, nothing out of the ordinary for a Monday morning. It only takes a few scrolls realize something major must have gone public, because everyone is making the generic tweets they do every time bad news happens.

_“We believe in standing with victims and prioritize their safety in our community,” _ reads one from a Cleveland band Sean hit it off with. 

Two tweets down is another from Noel’s friend in Rhetorical Heretical. 

_“It’s fucked how often we have to make these tweets that there’s no room for abusers in our music scene. I think it’s time we put some action behind it.”_

The pit in Sean’s stomach that happens every time his timeline looks like this- a far too frequent occurrence- appears as he scrolls frantically to figure out what scumbag caused the discussion today. An article from a local independent publication with a decent following that Anders has spoken highly of pops up with the answers Sean needs before long. 

_Meet Your Quota singer Ethan Moura accused of abuse by former bandmate Danton Heinen_

Sean’s never been more thankful that Charlie is driving, because otherwise he may have crashed the car. 

It’s possible Charlie knows something is up with how quiet Sean’s gotten, but Sean can’t even bother to reassure him as he clicks the article. 

_”’It was his word against mine, and he was the one with the mic.’” _ The sub-headline reads a quote from Danton before launching into the story. 

They start off with what happened at the festival: the song cover, the dedication by Charlie, the proposal that made all these things prominent stories in the music scene for the past week. Context on Danton’s departure from Meet Your Quota before joining The Quitters, as well as the song that’s almost certainly written about him, given before they launch into Danton’s statement. 

Apparently, this story has been in the works for a few days. Danton has kept it under wraps from him.

“Dude, you okay?” Asks Charlie from somewhere too far away for Sean to process. 

“Just, shut up, I mean...hold on a second, okay?” Sean’s words are jumbled, and his heart is racing too fast to care. 

_”I met Ethan when I was in a desperate place. My parents kicked me out when they found out I was gay and I never finished school. When Ethan found me, I was sleeping on people’s couches and working odd jobs, including at music venues. He was a well-liked solo artist in Vancouver, and I didn’t know much about music or the community at the time.” _

The writing sounds like an opening statement in a courtroom. Straightforward, but definitely not removed. Polished in a way that makes it obviously more crafted than candid.

_” I didn’t have anyone I was close to in my life, and I felt thankful that Ethan wanted to be around me...He found out I was a dual citizen and moved to America with me. I didn’t know anyone where we were going, and no one knew when I left. _

The rest of the story hits Sean in waves. Certain sentences stick out more than others. At some point, Charlie is asking if he’s okay, repeating himself a few times with more concern every time he has to ask the question. It’s not that Sean is intentionally ignoring him, but he feels paralyzed by the words in his hands. 

_”...Ethan sabotaged job interviews and didn’t want me to open up a bank account…”_

_“...joined Meet Your Quota when asked after the original bassist left…he didn’t like that I was making friends and getting attention…told me he was the only one who could care about someone as difficult as me…”_

_“...Used tour to isolate me...got the other members to join in or look the other way…encouraged Blake (drummer) and others to [perform sexual acts] with me when I was asleep or wasted…”_

_“...Ended up in the hospital after this made me suicidal...got replaced while in inpatient with no contact with the band…”_

Perhaps the most jarring to Sean is Danton’s closing sentence. They’re pulled over on the side of the road and Sean’s thankful, because he may have to open the door and throw up. 

_“...Maybe he wanted me dead so he could have a good sad narrative for his next album. For a long time, he made me want to be dead, too.” _

Sean’s always been someone who acts first and overthinks his actions later. Now is not any different. The place where Chris has his studio is three quarters of a mile from where Danton’s living, and if they’re on the route Sean thinks they are, Danton’s place shouldn’t be a long walk from here. 

In the driver's seat, Charlie’s looking at him with pity. Either he was able to read over Sean’s shoulder or checked his phone on his own, but Charlie definitely knows. He’d probably drive Sean to Danton’s, but Sean just needs to be alone for a moment to sort out his emotions before he has to be supportive. 

“I gotta...I’m sorry, you can go to Chris’ without me, but right now I have to be with my boyfriend.”

Just like he always does, Charlie understands. 

\---

Sean gets to Danton’s place before Danton is home. It’s only 4:30 now, which means the news came out while Danton was at work. Christ. 

They’ve visited each other enough for Sean to know Danton’s routine and that he should be home soon. If he’s coming home at all. In the meantime, Sean sits on the steps and thinks about shooting Chris a text. It’s probably common courtesy to tell your manager you ditched an important meeting for a boyfriend emergency. At the same time, Charlie is already there, and Sean’s not exactly sure what to say. 

Maybe he doesn’t have to say anything. After all, it was Chris who told him to put his loved ones before the band. Memories of Kentucky hover in the back of his head but he tries to push them out before Danton arrives. 

Fuck it, he should send a text. For a distraction if nothing else. 

_ Hey, sorry for missing the meeting. Had a personal issue come up, Charlie probably told you what’s up. _

Sean worries he sounds entitled, so he follows up.

_ I’ll make it up with coffee next time. _

“Are you loitering?” Comes from a voice Sean could not be more relieved to hear even when it’s the person he’s worried about. 

Sean wants to play it cool and say something casual back, but he takes one look at Danton and knows he’s not capable of that. Danton has on a hoodie with his work’s ice rink logo on it, a bag of skating equipment over his shoulders, and eyes red from crying. 

Sean pulls Danton into a hug, and he instantly relaxes into him. 

“I’m glad you’re here today,” Danton mumbles into Sean’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here every day, too.” 

It’s strange to hear Danton tell _Sean_ he’s glad he’s here, considering the article just published. 

“I want to be here every day. Wherever you are.” There’s more honesty in it than in any lyrics Sean has ever written. 

Wordlessly, they pull apart to get out of the harsh sun from a summer coming on too strong. 

Every time he comes to Danton’s apartment, Sean notices something new. The leaves on a plant that Danton bought a while ago have grown longer than the pot it’s in. On one of the desks, there’s a framed picture of him and Matt from when they played a show on Matt’s birthday. As shitty as it may be, Danton’s apartment is a home now, not just a place to sleep. 

The nonverbal agreement to sit on the floor next to Danton’s bed as they’ve done one hundred times before stays intact. Danton sits first, legs crossed and head leaning back against the bed. Any other day, Sean would make a comment on how handsome he looks coming home from work. Their knees touch as Sean takes a seat next to him. 

Sean doesn’t look at Danton when speaking. “You know how I’m trying to...how I’m trying not to be a jackass and solve everything by assuming I know best?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Tell me what you need right now, or what you feel, or where you want to be. I wanna help even if it’s by not helping, or vacuuming your apartment, or listening to you scream at me that the Blue Jackets suck for ten hours straight.” 

Sean’s earnest and genuine. All Danton does is giggle in the way that Sean thinks lights up the room. 

“I…” Still considering a response, Danton takes a breath and tries again. “I really wanna go to Sonic.” 

There’s nothing in Danton’s tone that makes it sound like he’s joking, but that makes it funnier as Sean bursts out laughing. The kind of laughter you react to physically, Sean holding his stomach with one hand, maintaining eye contact with a large grin. Danton holds a straight face for a moment before he joins Sean in it. 

“I’m serious! I wrote this, um, you know, a joke song to show the band and get them to laugh in the studio. About trying Sonic for the first time since we don’t have them in Vancouver, really. But I made it sound like a love ballad and I played it for them yesterday and I’ve wanted Sonic ever since.” 

Sitting up to face Sean now, Danton gives the explanation with liveliness. The red from his eyes is almost gone.

“You’re a strange man, you know that?” Replies Sean as he pulls up his GPS to plug in the nearest Sonic. 

For the second time that day, Sean is in the passenger seat, but he’s less scared of Danton’s driving than he had been of Charlie’s. There’s unexpected confidence and leisure to the way Danton drives that makes Sean want to put his feet on the dashboard. 

(He won’t, because Danton would probably tell him that it’s dangerous to do that.) 

The car is cleaner than most of Sean’s bandmates’ vehicles. There’s a bottle of Gatorade on the passenger side floor and a few receipts in the cup holder, but that’s the only mess. Danton even has a holder for his CDs that Sean flips through and teases him for the amount of Saves the Day and Senses Fail he owns. A good sport, Danton only flicks him when Sean says he didn’t take him for a closeted Jersey kid. 

“I turned my phone off,” begins Danton after they settle into the drive. “Too many text messages, but I kinda feel bad for not responding. I just don’t know what to say and I don’t know if I ever will.” 

He has one hand on the steering wheel, sunglasses pulled down and it’s maybe the first time Sean’s seen Danton wear them.

“You don’t have to respond; I’m sure they understand you got enough going on.” 

“I know, I mean, they’re all good people; they wouldn’t hold it against me. But I want them to know I appreciate it, and I want to do better at letting people know when I appreciate them.” Danton shares a brief glance as he stops at a light. “Or something like that, anyway.” 

Sean shoots a smile back as they hold eye contact. “Well, don’t think that’s a bad thing to want to do. But you can do it at your own pace, too.” 

“When I was with him…” There’s no need to clarify who ‘him’ is, not with the way Danton’s voice gets softer. “I thought being with him was all I had going for me. Like it was my place in the world. It sounds stupid now, but it made sense at the time because I had already lost everything, and he made sure I never gained anything else.” 

Danton’s voice cracks, taking only a moment to collect himself before continuing to explain. Sean serves as a captive one-man audience. 

“It was when I met Chris and Charlie and everyone like that, back when I still played bass in his band, I realized I could be something more than someone’s boyfriend or stress ball or sex toy or whatever he wanted me to be that day. But I still...I spent two years trying to figure out who I was when I wasn’t attached to someone else. 

“And I’m glad, because I needed to learn to be alone and to deal with myself again. It’s just, eventually, I also had to learn to be a part of something again. I’m glad I did.” 

Sean picks at the fabric of the car seat to try to keep himself from tearing up at what Danton says. In the driver's seat, Danton sounds sure of himself despite the emotion of it all. 

“I guess what I’m saying is...I wanna make an effort even when it’s hard. I want to trust people and take risks and get hurt again.”

Sean takes a moment to gather himself before getting the words out. “You’ve thought this through a lot, huh?” 

“Yeah, I, uh, I have a therapist. Have been seeing one for about a year. We talk about this and, well, you know. It’s the musician thing. We like to be introspective and dramatic.” A gentle smile accompanies the sentence, and Sean is happy to hear Danton call himself a musician.

“I should maybe get one of those. All I have is New Year's resolutions I never keep.” 

They’re almost at the Sonic, windows rolled slightly down and messing up Sean’s hair. It’s kind of untraditional for a date but Sean wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Danton perks up. “What if we did resolutions right now? I think they’re more effective every six months than a year, anyway. We can do them every January and every July.”

“Okay, I’ll go first…” The tenderness of the conversation they just had becomes less painful. “I want to never get in a car that Charlie McAvoy is driving again.”

Sudden laughter escapes Danton from the comment, and Sean thinks his only real resolution is to make that happen every day. 

“I’ve seen him try to parallel park, so I can’t blame you on that one. Okay, uh...mine is to try to give someone a compliment every day.” 

“You sound a little bit like my mom’s cross stitch, but I can fuck with that.” Sean approves, and only gets a slight glare paired with a half-smile from Danton. 

A few seconds pass and Danton makes a left turn before he adds another one. “This half year I’m going to buy a real bed.”

“You’re gonna be one of those guys who puts his mattress on the floor aren’t you.” That one Danton can’t deny enough to even be faux annoyed. He shakes his head instead as Sean thinks of another one for himself. “My resolution is...I’m gonna try to be less of a control freak and let John do the setlists without double checking them.”

“Good one, good one.”

“He’s gonna make the entire thing Charlie’s songs to get me back because I said that.” 

The scenario is far from unrealistic, and Danton adds on. “You’re gonna be the first musician to get written out of your own band. Like when they have characters in soap operas fall down an elevator shaft.” 

They pull into the parking lot. The mood on such a hard day feels so easy, and Sean realizes this is definitely love. 

It isn’t lost on Danton either, considering the look they share when he puts the car in park. It’s surreal in the best way as Danton leans his head back against the seat and looks at Sean in a way that makes Sean feel like the most important thing, that makes him wonder if Danton will ever look away. 

“This year I wanna tell the cute guy next to me in the Sonic parking lot he should kiss me, and maybe let myself be someone’s boyfriend again,” Danton declares.

“I think I can help with that one.”

Sean’s proud of the fact that they don’t kiss for too long in a fast food parking lot where anyone can see, because he’d like to take Danton somewhere a little more romantic than Sonic for that. At the same time, Sean would be okay with kissing in a junkyard as long as Danton is here to stay. 

They’ve been neglecting their phones for too long between confessions and resolutions and kissing, something Danton is more accustomed to doing than Sean. He hasn’t checked his phone since he got in the car with Danton and didn’t realize he has 302 texts from the group chat. 

In the chaos of the day, he forgot Chris has news to tell them. 

_“Sean check your fucking phone we’re touring with Shoddy Workmanship for fucks sake!!”_

\---

“This is going to be our last song for tonight, and since this is our hometown, we just wanna give a quick shout out real quick to Anders and Jake for always letting us play their basement, Brandon for telling us what a frequency is, Chris for taking a chance on us and managing us, Torey for being a great hype man, all the bands we’ve played with, especially our friends in The Quitters…”

The obligatory thank you’s come from Charlie and not John on this night of tour. They usually try to keep Charlie from doing them and babbling like he is, but for playing a huge venue opening for one of the Columbus scene’s favorite bands, they make an exception. 

Of course, it means Sean’s going to give him shit on stage for his inability to be brief. “...Also, wanna thank the mailman, our third grade teachers, the vending machine that gave us two cans when we only paid for one.”

Charlie looks at him with amusement as he tunes the E string on his guitar and mouths “fuck off” just far enough back from the mic. 

From behind him, Sean can hear Noel pointedly hitting the hihat, which means it’s time for Sean and Charlie to shut up unless they want a drumstick thrown at them. Tonight is the best crowd reception they’ve had all tour, kids singing along and not just friends of theirs or people they vaguely know. It reminds Sean of Spring Fling, only better, because the crowds have gotten more engaged.

One of these days, Sean will feel as at home on a bigger stage as he does on a rug in Anders’ basement. 

For now, he still always gets a little lost exiting the stage. Having all his friends, and his boyfriend, waiting for him helps him find his way.

“Hey! You still remember me?” Danton walks towards Sean as Brandon and Anders walk past them with brief pats on the back to help take down their equipment. 

“Yeah, I think I saw you last time we played this area.” Pulling Danton into a hug, Sean plays along with the dramatic rock star bit. “You come here often?”

Danton laughs into Sean’s neck, dressed way too nice to be this close to Sean’s sweaty post-show self. Technically, Danton’s working this show too. 

Shortly before Sean left for the tour with Shoddy Workmanship, Danton got offered a job with a promoter for a few mid-sized clubs named Zdeno. He scares Sean on account of being twice the size of him and from a big-name company, but Zdeno actually cares for the local scene and reached out to Danton while The Quitters were recording, putting Sean at ease. Danton’s helping him keep the show under control tonight. 

“Can you two make doe eyes at each other while helping us load up the van?” Yells Brandon as he rolls part of the drum set toward the door. The two scramble for the nearest cases to help carry. 

“How much longer are you in the studio for?” Sean asks Danton as they try to maneuver boxes down the stairs. The rest of The Quitters are at the venue tonight, guest listed by various members of the Yes, Hard Feelings crew, but they’re waiting at the van.

“Um, maybe another few days? We can’t really afford too long, but, you know, with work it makes it hard to be there all day. We’re hoping to finish up this weekend.” 

A moment passes as they set the boxes down before Danton adds on. “We’re at that stage of fatigue where it’s like...maybe we’ll scrap the whole thing and go the ska direction.”

“I could buy you checkered vans,” Sean considers.

“I don’t think I’d look too great in them.” 

“You’d look great in anything.” Laying the compliments on thick is Sean’s specialty, something he likes to perfect when he sees the way Danton smiles and tries not to go red every time he says them. 

Other friends come and go walking past them at load out, but it’s Jake and Anders who help with the daunting task of organizing the trunk. Anders, of course, takes a picture of the back of the van with the cases placed carefully as if it were a game of Tetris to tweet for his “best van packing” compilations. 

“With the album almost done, you should make one of these the album cover,” Anders says thoughtfully to Jake while uploading the photo. 

The Quitters’ album is moving along quickly for a band that intentionally sets a slow pace on their work. The best part is that Danton always comes home from these writing sessions glowing, evidence that he’s had fun. For someone whose previous experience in music wasn’t enjoyable, Sean is thankful for that.

Danton rarely publicly speak about the incident after the article as advised by his therapist. Publications have tried, but Danton tells them he’s said all he needs to say. And he’s right; it was effective enough to keep Meet Your Quota off bills, bands not wanting to tour with them and venues not wanting to book them, or producers not wanting to work with them. There are a handful of people who haven’t cut their ties, but it’s mostly people who aren’t well-respected in their own right. 

The fallout isn’t exactly what Sean would call a breeze, not with the still evident effects on Danton or past enablers of the band trying to cover their asses at his expense, but the support is essential to Danton’s recovery. At least, that’s what his therapist told him, apparently. 

The days never really get easier, always hard work, but they do get better.

Looking at Danton, blue buttoned up shirt and soft smile at his brand new job, Sean’s glad to be a part of something better with him. 

“Or we can use the photos for a backdrop when we move,” Jake interrupts Sean’s train of thought with a late response to Anders’ request. 

“Did you guys pick a place yet?” Questions Danton, leaning against the van. 

The lease is up on Warriors Arena, meaning the two have to move. They aren’t exactly sure of the sendoff date yet, but Sean’s certain he’s going to be shitfaced and nostalgic for it. 

“We gotta come up with a new name for when we put on shows at the new place,” Anders sighs. “And I think we’re gonna get the whole gang together when we move to decorate. You know, make it feel like home.” 

“Call it Fighter Stadium,” a cheesy joke comes out of Danton. 

Sean chimes in with one of his own while putting his hand over Danton’s. “Or Battler Theater.”

“Soldier Field!” Jake adds proudly. 

The phone in Anders hand buzzes as he replies. “That already exists in Chicago, I’m pretty sure.” 

“Yeah, but our place would be better.” 

There are only a few more nights of tour, but Sean wishes he could stay forever. He never thought he would hate leaving, but leaving gave him all he has in the first place. 

“We should go back in; the two Charlies are trying to go shot for shot and Torey is going to film it.” 

Jake takes off running, with Anders trailing not far behind. The remaining two boys are more patient, an amused look shared between them that nothing could break. 

“You coming?” Asks Danton. 

“Wouldn’t wanna go anywhere else.” 

Sean stands up and holds his hand out, an offer that Danton can’t help but take. He’s never been more in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS; Definitely the most in-depth chapter when it comes to abuse stuff, most prominently at the end when Sean is in Charlie's car, there will be a part in italics that states abusive behaviors that occurred in the past in a matter of fact way. At the festival, after Sean and his band perform (around the line "An eventual lull in conversation") we see a mild demonstration of controlling behavior that becomes more sinister with later context, as well as mentions of age difference.
> 
> Otherwise, thanks for sticking with me this long. This is the longest thing I've ever written and it took a long time. Once again thanks to cryptwrites on tumblr and mo for betaing, and all the friends we met along the way.


End file.
